


Lately Colors Seem So Bright

by BigBadLittleRed



Series: Captain Invincible and the Invisible Cunt [2]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Autistic Simon Bellamy, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Established Relationship, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nathan Young Being Nathan Young, Nathan Young has ADHD, Slurs, series 2 au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadLittleRed/pseuds/BigBadLittleRed
Summary: Nathan points a finger at him. “Now’s not the time for jokes, Barry. I told you before, I am the funny one here.” Then, he spins around and throws his hands up. “He cannot be part of the crew, we’re full up and I won’t allow it.”“What do you want me to do, kill him?” Simon questions jokingly, Nathan turns his head to look back at him with hopeful hesitancy. “Nate!”“Oh, come on! It’s not like you have some moral compass, you’ve done it before!” Nathan turns around fully and trudges over to him.
Relationships: Simon Bellamy/Nathan Young
Series: Captain Invincible and the Invisible Cunt [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042572
Comments: 30
Kudos: 130





	1. The New Kid

**Author's Note:**

> ( And we're back! I didn't know if I'd be up for a sequel but I've honestly finished two chapters and I'm likely gonna start the third soon. This one is likely going to finish off series two plotlines, either glimpsing over them or altering them to my liking. It's also going to focus on Simon's storyline a bit more this time around, his family and his own personal story. 
> 
> The title is a lyric from Kat Dahlia's 'I Think I'm In Love Again' which is such a Nathan/Simon song for me.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it! )

Life at the community centre had been decently quiet for once, days passing with only the mind-numbing tasks given to them to fill the spaces. They all enjoyed the reprieve, after the hectic things that had been occurring nearly nonstop since the beginning of their service. A lot had changed since then, from superpowers to spilling blood, all of their lives had changed in one way or another. The only thing that stayed the same was their little unit, no matter how the dynamics changed.

Case in point, Simon had spent the night at the community centre last night. Had slept on that pathetic excuse for a mattress up in the mezzanine, Nathan tucked against him. He feels a bit grimy for it, despite having taken a shower in the locker room. But his dad had been getting on his nerves, and he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to spend the night with Nathan.

He’s standing in front of his locker, pulling on a clean shirt, when Nathan walks out from the showers in only a towel. He doesn’t feel as embarrassed as he once had, staring at the damp skin on display before him. Nathan’s gorgeous, he knows that, and Nathan knows that Simon finds him attractive. Sometimes he just likes to look at him, take him in.

“I think I’m gettin’ a rash.”

Simon blinks. “What?”

Nathan turns to him, gesturing to his upper chest where the skin does look irritated. Simon walks over, pushing the other’s hand out of the way when he starts to scratch at it. He tips his head to get a better look, frowning at it. It doesn’t look like anything contagious, but Simon’s no doctor.

“Are you not wearing a shirt under your jumpsuit again?” He raises an eyebrow as he looks back up at Nathan.

“It’s such a waste of laundry.” Nathan groans.

Simon huffs in amusement, shaking his head. “The inseam and the zipper are probably irritating your skin.”

“What are you, a doctor?” He snipes, though Simon knows he’s just pouting.

“Put on a shirt.” He says instead of retaliating, turning away to return to his locker.

He’s just getting his jumpsuit over his shoulders and moving to zip it up when the door to the outside squeaks open. Simon stops what he’s doing, turning his head and expecting to see one of their friends. Instead, an unfamiliar young man steps into the room. He smiles at the sight of Simon, waving politely, and then moves over to a locker and opens it.

“Who are you?” Nathan demands, sounding mildly perturbed.

“Ollie,” Simon catches a glimpse of an orange jumpsuit in the stranger’s locker and realizes he must be a new member of their community service.

“Is that a rat tail?” Nathan questions, the beginnings of a laugh in his voice. He looks to Simon, as if he’s not sure that what he’s seeing is real. “Are you seein’ this?”

Simon gives him a silent warning look, Nathan gestures at the new guy heatedly. They proceed to engage in a silent conversation consisting of only gestures and expressions, all while Ollie is getting dressed. Simon eventually points at Nathan’s jumpsuit on the bench to wordlessly insist that he get dressed, before turning back to his locker to adjust some things, effectively ending their conversation. After a moment, Nathan slinks over and leans on the locker next to Simon’s, still pouting a bit.

“So, what are your names?” Ollie asks after he’s zipped up, he’s put a button on his jumpsuit that has a peace sign on it.

Simon finally shuts his locker, turning around to face the other. “I’m Simon,” He turns his eyes to Nathan, who is merely watching Ollie with a disturbed expression on his face. “This is Nathan.” He says when he realizes the other isn’t going to say anything.

“Simon and Nathan.” Ollie repeats with a bright grin.

“What’d you do?” Nathan demands.

“Pardon?”

“What did you do, what crime did you commit?” Nathan reiterates with irritation.

“Oh, I vandalized a coal-fired power station.” He seems rather impressed with himself. “We were protesting against CO2 emissions.”

The door opens again, and then Alisha is walking in. Nathan lets out a strangled sigh of a noise right as she turns the corner, and Simon’s head twists back around to look up at his boyfriend. The realization only hits him when the smell does, and he has to fight back the laughter that tries to escape him. He shoves at Nathan’s arm, then brings up an arm to cover his nose with his sleeve, simultaneously hiding his smile.

“Why does it smell so rank in here?” Alisha asks with a grimace on her face, her eyes swivel to look at Ollie. “Who are you?”

Nathan has a proud look on his face, he waggles his eyebrows at Simon. Kelly and Curtis are starting to crowd into the locker room too, but Nathan puts a hand on Simon’s shoulder to push him towards the exit and he follows the urging. He goes willingly, exits the locker room and leaves the conversation behind.

He smiles as Nathan wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind. He reaches up and tucks his hands into the other’s arms, holding on gently. Nathan is warm against his back, swaying them back and forth slowly. He knows that Ollie’s entrance irritated Nathan, he doesn’t do well with introductions or first impressions. Simon supposes it has to do with his fear of rejection, but this time around it was likely that even without that, he would have irritated Nathan regardless.

“Oi, you two.” Shawn’s voice startles both of them, Nathan automatically releases him and steps back. Shawn slows in his approach as they pull apart, a small frown on his face like he’s processing what he just saw. “What’s this about?”

“What’s what about?” Nathan replies easily, that small impish smile on his face.

Shawn gives Nathan a disapproving look, then shakes his head. “Whatever, I don’t care. New guy find the locker room?”

“Yes.” Simon replies, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“All right, go pick up litter or something.” Shawn waves a hand, then continues past them. Simon and Nathan turn to watch him go.

When he exits out the other end of the hall, Nathan speaks. “What a cunt.”

-

The new guy is, to say the least, annoying. Nathan is trying to keep his distance, and as a result, so is Simon. Kelly’s being cordial with him, Alisha and Curtis are mostly just poking fun at him. Usually that’s Nathan’s job, but since he started hanging around Simon more, he’s been tamer. Kelly figures he’s trying not to scare Simon off, or maybe Simon’s just been a good influence. He might even be the one keeping Nathan at bay, usually he’d be taking the piss right about now.

She watches as they walk ahead of the group, Nathan is using his grabbing tool to pinch at Simon’s heels. Simon turns and kicks at the metal tool, but there’s a smirk on his face as their metal poles clash with each other. They engage in a battle that is something akin to a sword fight, then Nathan decides to cheat and yanks Simon’s grabber out of his hand.

“Twat!” Nathan jeers at him.

“Is he normally such a prick?” Ollie says under his breath to Kelly.

“Pretty much.” Curtis says from close by, picking up a piece of trash.

“All the time.” Alisha adds.

Nathan darts out of Simon’s reach, both of their tools in his hands. “Come on, Barry, come get it!” He laughs.

“I thought his name was Simon.” Ollie says, still watching the display that they had all at this point stopped to watch.

“It is.” Curtis says.

“Come on, mate. Don’t be a bully.” Ollie calls out as Nathan holds Simon’s grabber above his head.

At his voice, Nathan spins around and Simon’s head turns slightly. Nathan’s face twitches a bit, he gets that partially angry, partially mocking shit-eating grin on his face. “What was that, Rat-Tail?”

Alisha snickers under her breath, Curtis lifts a hand to wipe at his mouth, discretely hiding a smirk.

“I-It’s fine.” Simon says awkwardly.

Ollie just steps forward, holding out his hand in a peaceful gesture to Nathan. “I’m sure Simon would like to get back to work.”

“Does he now?” Nathan walks even closer, getting a bit in Ollie’s face. “And what’s it to you?”

“I’m a friend to all, and I disapprove of violence and bullying of any sort.” Ollie tells him politely.

“That’s rich, new guy.” Nathan laughs mockingly, turning his head and tossing Simon’s grabbing tool back to him. Simon fumbles with it briefly, looking a bit concerned. “Barry, Rat-Tail’s got a thing for you.”

Ollie clears his throat. “I _believe_ his name is Simon.”

“Oh, you absolute cock.” Nathan snorts.

“Come on then, Simon.” Ollie says and tries to sidestep Nathan. Nathan quickly sidesteps with him, blocking him from getting any closer.

“Nate.” Simon says from behind him, stepping closer.

“Stay away from him.” Nathan says firmly.

“Guys,” Kelly says with a sigh.

Nathan blocks another attempt of Ollie’s to get around him, jerks his arm out and shoves the other’s shoulder. Ollie holds up his hands in a peaceful gesture, backing up just as Simon comes in between them. He carefully lifts an arm, pushing it into Nathan’s chest to force him to step back.

Then, he turns his head to look at Ollie. “It’s fine.”

“You just let him treat you like that? Where’s your self-respect?” Ollie asks calmly.

“He was just messing around.” Simon says finally, an awkward grimace forms on his face. “We’re boyfriends.”

Ollie looks like he just got a slap. “O-Oh.”

“Yeah, so keep your goody-two-shoes brown-nosing ass out of our business.” Nathan says with a sneer, reaching out and snagging hold of Simon’s hand. “Come on, Barry.”

Simon allows himself to be led away, only briefly looking back to offer a polite wave before the two disappear around the corner. There’s quiet for a moment, then Ollie turns back to them looking rather embarrassed.

“Five quid we find them half-naked in the locker room when we get back.” Curtis says.

“Nah, that’s a public shag that is. Stairwell.” Alisha argues, gesturing with her own grabber.

“Oh, gross, you’re so on.” Curtis walks past Ollie with Alisha, not paying any further attention to the new guy.

“Those two?” Ollie finally manages to say, staring at Kelly with mild disbelief.

“They’re both real stupid, but dead romantic sometimes.” Kelly tells him before turning to head off after Alisha and Curtis.

-

“The nerve of that hippie rat-tail wearin’ wanker!” Nathan says angrily, since their return to the mezzanine he’s been pacing back and forth.

Simon knows that Ollie makes him angry, but apparently, he’s gotten further under Nathan’s skin than he previously assumed. It’s hard to predict what’s going to set Nathan off, not that anyone would believe Simon if he tried to tell them that Nathan’s rather sensitive. He takes things rather personal, and sometimes it’s hard to understand why. He’s not very good at discussing his feelings, Simon thinks he doesn’t understand them most of the time anyways.

“Why do you care what he thinks?”

“He thought I was bullyin’ you!” Nathan insists.

“That never stopped you from bullying me before.” He leans back against the railing where he’s sat, smiling a bit when Nathan stops in his tracks to look over at Simon.

Nathan points a finger at him. “Now’s not the time for jokes, Barry. I told you before, I am the funny one here.” Then, he spins around and throws his hands up. “ _He_ cannot be part of the crew, we’re full up and I won’t allow it.”

“What do you want me to do, kill him?” Simon questions jokingly, Nathan turns his head to look back at him with hopeful hesitancy. “Nate!”

“Oh, come on! It’s not like you have some moral compass, you’ve done it before!” Nathan turns around fully and trudges over to him.

He drops down onto his knees and then to his belly to rest his chest in Simon’s lap, cuddling his stomach. Simon rests an arm over his back, his other hand resting atop Nathan’s hair. “That’s different.”

“I know.” Nathan grumbles against his hip. “You won’t even stab him a little bit?”

“Sorry.” Simon chuckles, ruffling his hair.

Nathan turns over onto his back, still keeping his upper half partially in Simon’s lap. “I’m not gonna be nice to him, though.”

“You aren’t nice to anyone.”

“Shut up, Barry.” He scoffs, and then after a moment he reaches back and threads his fingers in Simon’s. “I’m nice to you, though, aren’t I?” He looks up at Simon, giving the younger a look at his face from an upside-down perspective.

“Sometimes.” Simon smirks.

“Barry!” Nathan kicks his leg out in protest, lifting his head and letting it fall back against his thigh roughly in some form of retaliation.

“Sorry.” He apologizes somewhat sincerely, settling a hand across Nathan’s chest.

“He has a rat-tail.” Nathan complains, Simon smirks.

“I know, love.”

He watches the blush spread on Nathan’s cheeks, feeling rather proud of himself. The other doesn’t say anything though, he’s just getting used to the pet name. Simon’s not going to go crazy with terms of endearment, but he likes the sound of ‘love’. More importantly, he likes how flustered it makes Nathan.

After a moment, Nathan speaks. “You know, one of these days I’m gonna being able to call you gross names without wanting to vomit and then your pale Welsh arse is really gonna get what’s coming to it.”

“Nate?”

“Yes, dear?” And really, that one makes them both laugh. He oftentimes says it teasingly, never with endearment. Simon doesn’t mind, though, he could call him ‘Barry’ for the rest of their lives and nothing else and he wouldn’t mind a bit.

“Shut up.”

“Now who’s bullyin’ who?” Nathan looks back up at him again, and Simon leans over to press their mouths together in a slightly uncomfortable upside-down kiss.

Downstairs, the front doors fling open and the sound of their friends frantically shouting has them scrambling to their feet and looking over the rails. They each have something splattered on them, and if Simon squints, he thinks it might be blood. Kelly spots them, racing over to the stairs.

“The new guy got shot!”

Nathan looks back at Simon. “Man, you work fast.”

“I didn’t do it!” Simon objects. “I was here with you.”

“Right, right.” Nathan winks exaggeratedly, Simon looks at him disapprovingly. 

Curtis comes bounding up the stairs behind Kelly, Alisha a step behind him. All of them are out of breath. “Some guy pulled up in a car and was talkin’ all crazy, new guy tried to say something and he shot him in the head.”

“What?” Simon asks, baffled.

“I’m starting to think that if there is a god, he might actually be doin’ me favors.” Nathan says, earning a smack to his shoulder from Kelly. “Hey, hands off! Only my boyfriend can smack me now.”

Simon whacks him on the arm.

“Ow! See?”

“Alisha called the cops, but he’s still out there.” Curtis says.

“Should we tell Shawn?” Simon suggests.

“Nah, let him find out later.” Nathan sits down against the railing. “Maybe the guy will kill him too, two pricks one crazy, y’know?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Curtis snaps.

“My inner child is just crying out to be _loved_ , man.” Nathan tells him dramatically; Curtis kicks his foot. “Ow, Jesus!” He exclaims angrily.

Alisha interrupts impatiently. “Look, there’s a murderer wandering around. Can everyone just shut up for a minute?”

They all slowly move to sit down, further away from the railing so that they’re more out of sight. They place themselves against a nearby wall, the others catching their breath as the seconds tick by. Simon can just barely see the front doors from his vantage point, and he can’t take his eyes off them. He knows he’s tense, just waiting for some lunatic to come barging in guns blazing. He might be able to turn invisible, but any stray bullet could end up hitting him even if he were.

His throat feels like it’s tightening shut. He knows that if anyone spoke to him, he likely wouldn’t even begin to be able to reply. He startles a little when he feels someone touch his hand, turning his head to watch as Nathan pulls his arm into his lap. He wraps both hands around Simon’s own, squeezing it gently. Simon looks up at his face, and Nathan’s mouth forms a crooked, reassuring smile.

“I won’t let anyone shoot you, Barry.” He whispers, a smile on his face that anyone else might take as teasing. Simon has realized since growing closer to Nathan that he often masks all of his sentiment with jokes, with sarcasm. Simon doesn’t really get it, but Nathan knew that. He never teased Simon about things like this, even when it sounded like he did.

“What are you gonna do, make yourself a human shield?” Curtis snorts from the other side of Simon.

“You’ve got brain matter on your cheek, man.” Nathan retorts, and Curtis grunts in disgust as he quickly wipes his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Okay, so I know this chapter was short but someone mentioned wanting someone's outside sort of perspective of Simon and Nathan. And I figured I could do that and tackle the whole Ollie thing at the same time. Brief, but a good introduction to the story, in my opinion.
> 
> Thanks for reading, make sure to leave a kudos and a comment if you liked! )


	2. Kings of the Community Centre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( I'll be putting information on a trigger warning at the bottom.
> 
> I was kind of nervous about posting this chapter, I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Enjoy! )

The police end up taking down the man who shot Ollie, for once taking on the responsibility of keeping the community safe rather than leave it up to their little ragtag group to messily murder another person for the greater good. Simon is glad he doesn’t have to worry about it, he really didn’t feel like hiding another body. Instead, he goes home the next night after spending the afternoon with Nathan and Kelly.

He should have stayed at the community centre, in hindsight.

At home, Lizzie mentions Nathan, and that opens a whole new mess with their father. How he doesn’t want Simon hanging around criminals, how he should consider how it reflects poorly on his parents. Then somehow it turns into a lecture on the attempted arson. Simon had sat through it all, shrunken into the couch and wishing he were anywhere else. He wished he had a body to be busy burying right about then.

“Why can’t you be normal?” His father had said, in the middle of his rant, and Simon had shut his eyes. “Look at me when I talk to you, don’t be disrespectful.”

It went on like that for a while, his mother had conveniently disappeared into the kitchen to wash dishes. Lizzie had been sent upstairs, and she had given Simon an apologetic look, probably for having started the whole thing to begin with. He didn’t blame her, it happened frequently enough on its own. Just Simon sitting on the sofa while his father lamented about how he doesn’t understand where he went wrong with his only son. Every so often he was told to sit up or look at his father when speaks to him, demanding yes and no answers to rhetorical questions that don’t need them.

Usually, he took the twenty-minute verbal lashing and then headed upstairs for the night. The next morning, it would be like nothing happened.

Maybe he was just overly tired, it’s not like he’d never snapped back at his parents before. It’s usually his mother, but he’s had the nerve to talk back once or twice. He thinks maybe getting closer to Nathan, standing up for him, has given him what the curly-haired boy would crudely dub ‘balls of steel’.

Because when his father asked if he had anything to say for himself, Simon stood up instead of cowering. It was his cue to apologize meekly, to scurry back to his room for the night. But he remembered that story, that conflated story Nathan told about him confronting Nathan’s father. About how strong Nathan saw him as, and how many times his father has put him down. And Simon somehow found the nerve to step toe-to-toe with his father and spit directly in his face. Literally spit in his face.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything aside from anger, disappointment, or mild content on his father’s face. In the deep recesses of his mind, Simon held the rare memory of him actually smiling at Simon when he got first place in the science fair in year six. He was so used to him being angry, that this brief glimpse of genuine disbelief gave him immense satisfaction.

Maybe Nathan is a bad influence on him, or maybe he’s shown him the glory of pissing off people you cannot stand just to revel in the reaction.

It was a short-lived victory, considering that his father responded by punching him in the face and ended up bodily hauling him to the door. He had been tossed down the stairs, the door slamming shut. He could hear his father yelling as he talked to who he assumed was his mother as he peeled himself up off the pavement.

That’s how he ended up standing outside of the community centre, having been slowly breaking apart at the seams since he walked away from his front steps. His mouth tastes like blood and his eyes sting, tear tracks making freezing cold streaks along his cheeks, and he doesn’t have his jacket. He’s just got on his t-shirt and jeans. He feels naked and that makes everything worse. The cold burns his arms, and he should go inside but his skin feels too tight. He doesn’t want Nathan to see him like this. Because Nathan had learned to be vulnerable with him to an extent, but Simon was a hypocrite that couldn’t do the same.

So he presses his palms to freezing cold ears and grits his teeth, pacing back and forth as he struggles to get ahold of himself. Hands over his ears turn into fingers pulling at his hair, and he bends over at the waist to let out a noise from his throat that sounds like a mix of a growl and a sob. Tears escape his tightly shut eyes, and he hates himself for feeling like this.

He uses the nearby wall to help him slide to the ground, cold concrete feeling like he’s digging an ice shard through his arm. He tucks his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and starts to rock back and forth. He keeps his eyes shut, tries to breathe through the pain of the air on his arms, the physical agony of every single thought in his head being too much, too loud despite the quiet of everything around him.

Nearby, a noise grates at his ears, something squeaky that makes his brain spark and zap violently. He brings his hands back up to his ears, can hear the noise playing over and over in his head. He practically jumps out of his skin when a warm hand touches his freezing cold arm. The brush of the skin is like sandpaper, he jerks away and wrenches his eyes open.

Nathan is crouched in front of him. He can’t examine his face, can’t even manage to look into his eyes. His head is a jumble of pain, hurt, too much, humiliation pouring into the mix. Simon slams his eyes shut and ducks his head, curling his arms to his chest so that the other can’t touch him. Normally, it’s more than welcome, but now it’s like the contact point of his skin sends ice water up to his brain and it sets on fire on the way there. Fingers brush his shoulder through his shirt.

_Spark, crackle, **roar**_. White behind his eyelids, radio static in his head.

Awareness filters in. Water draining from a bathtub, leaving everything damp and empty. He blinks and finds his world turned sideways, his whole body feels raw, his eyes hurt, his brain hurts. It takes him a second to realize he’s laying on his side, cheek pressed into something soft. He slowly registers a numbing cold in his side, where he’s laid on the concrete. He’s out of breath, quiet sobs ruling over his lung control.

“Simon?” A soft, fearful noise that hurts his ears to hear but not nearly as bad as earlier. Then, a familiar face is leaning into his vision, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

Radio static to radio silence, he searches for words and finds that when he reaches for them in his head they’re missing. He shuts his eyes, pulls in a deep breath, the cold air hurting his lungs. He breathes out, and then opens his eyes again, despite how exhausted he feels.

“Can you-” Nathan’s eyes dart all over Simon, his hands hovering up in the air like he wants to touch but knows he shouldn’t. Simon is greatly appreciative of it. “It’s freezin’ out here, I don’t want our dicks fallin’ off.”

Nathan’s not wearing his jacket, Simon moves the arm beneath him to pick himself up on his elbow. It takes a moment, his limbs sluggish and fighting the movement. Nathan moves with him, hands close but not yet touching. It would likely be okay right now, he might could use a cuddle. But he needs specific touches, and he can’t communicate that.

Instead, he works to get himself sitting, then standing. Nathan leans down to scoop up something off the ground, shaking it out. His hoodie, Simon realizes, which must have been what was under his head a few moments ago.

Nathan holds the garment out, looking at Simon apprehensively. “Your lips are turning blue.”

Nathan doesn’t look much better in his t-shirt and jeans, probably just as cold as Simon is after having sacrificed his jacket. Simon manages to nod jerkily, and Nathan takes it as a hesitant cue to step around him and drape it over his shoulders. It’s not much warmer, Simon forces his arms into the sleeves and feels relief at a semi-familiar feeling of his arms being covered. Luckily, Nathan’s hoodie is soft, doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

“C’mon.” Nathan’s voice is still nearly silent, like he’s afraid to speak.

Simon shuffles along with him, and they head inside the centre. It feels like a mile until they get up the stairs into the mezzanine, but he finally gets to the makeshift mattress and sinks down there. He feels empty, like a water balloon that had been filled until it burst. Just tatters of wet rubber remaining.

When Nathan sits down next to him a minute or so later and holds up a damp cloth, Simon automatically flinches away. He turns his head the opposite direction and tries to filter through all the broken pieces of his instincts and emotions. He breathes, until he doesn’t feel like his skin is twisting tighter and tighter all over again. When he looks back at Nathan, the other is twisting the rag in his hands and staring down at it thoughtfully.

“I’m shit at this.” Nathan mumbles under his breath, sounding lost. He looks back up at Simon, then, eyes mildly damp. “I got warm water, a-and you got crap on your face....” He holds up the rag again, gesturing at Simon’s face.

Simon reaches shakily for the cloth, taking it and briefly rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index finger. It’s warm, damp, the feel of it doesn’t personally offend him. He lifts it and quickly wipes at his face, feeling the soreness of his cheekbone as he does so. His skin is mildly numb from the cold, so it’s not so bad. Nathan takes it back and drops it in what looks to be a small bin nearby.

“I almost phoned 999, I thought you were having some sort of epileptic thing or a mental breakdown.” Nathan admits with a trembling chuckle. “Barry, can you just _say_ something to make me feel less like shit?”

Simon brings up his arm, rubbing the soft worn fabric of Nathan’s hoodie to his cheek. He slowly shakes his head, feeling just about ready to collapse. He knows he should do damage control on this, ensure Nathan that he’s okay, but he’s not okay. His body and mind are wrung out after such an intense meltdown, and he just wants to sleep.

He shuffles back onto the mattress, reclining slowly. The adrenaline has worn off, he’s crashing hard. But he still doesn’t feel right, he needs…

Simon reaches out, where Nathan still hasn’t moved from his spot, and takes hold of his shirt hem. He tugs, earning the other’s distracted gaze. He tugs again, and the other carefully knee walks up the bed. Simon handles him closer, pulling him down on top of him. Their breaths escape them simultaneously, Nathan’s in surprise and Simon’s in relief. He wraps his arms up and over the other’s back, managing to rock them back and forth a little awkwardly in their position.

He tucks his face into Nathan’s shoulder, and feels just a little less unsteady. Nathan remains boneless atop him, only adjusting for a brief second before allowing Simon to do with him as he pleases. He’s ever so grateful for it. After a while, Simon stops moving them as he drifts closer to sleep. He feels warm and safe like this, his boyfriend a perfect weight across his body.

He shuts his eyes, and finally allows himself to fall asleep.

~

He wakes up feeling stiff and tired, half-awake briefly thinking about trying to go back to sleep when he feels the gentle tickle of breath on his neck. A partial weight on his chest, an arm slung over his sternum and partially tucked beneath his other arm. Nathan tucked into him so close and comfortably. Simon allows himself a moment to drink in the reality of it all, of what Nathan likely saw, of how he’s going to have to explain it.

He’s honestly surprised Nathan stayed, rarely anyone stuck around when he had one of those. Hadn’t had one in a while, he had one at the psychiatric unit he was sent to. He just couldn’t stand not being in his own bed every night, having to share a room, and the smell of cleaning supplies gave him headaches. He didn’t have them very often, his counselor called them meltdowns, which was a good word for them.

He’d been diagnosed in year eleven. After a night of no sleep, an exam he forgot to study for, and a breakdown that led to him being sent to the counselor’s office. It wasn’t pretty, one of the worst days of his life, likely right under attempting arson and pissing through a mail slot. But it led to a lot of questions and then an evaluation, because his mother spoke to the counselor that day and she seemed to get through to her somehow. He’d never say his mother wanted anything but the best for him, even if she never quite knew how to give it to him all the time.

For so long his mother just called him high-strung and anxious, not to mention particular and eccentric (those were some of her favorites). His dad just said he needed to grow up, but he’s not sure how a seven-year-old crying in the grocery store constituted that sort of response. It’s not like Simon could help it. He’d been made to feel like a freak and then it turns out he’d been autistic the whole time, just born differently.

His father had turned up his nose at the concept, and they really hadn’t talked about it since then. Simon supposes that’s for the best because his dad would likely just turn it into another way to yell at him. Like last night…

Last night.

He adjusts his jaw silently, then reaches up as silently as possible to touch his cheek. It’s definitely sore, he wonders if it left a bruise. What a stupid thing to have done, he’d be lucky if his dad ever spoke to him again let alone let him back in the house. He left his phone, his clothes, he’d have to sneak back in. He shuts his eyes and wishes he could go back to a few minutes ago. Back when he was still asleep, content to simply sleep next to his boyfriend.

“Barry,” Nathan’s chest rumbles against his arm. “You awake?”

Simon clears his throat, nodding his head. He waits for the other to move, to ask him questions at least. But instead, Nathan just exhales against the side of his neck and tightens his hold around his chest. He reaches up and wraps an arm over the other’s back, squeezing him back. It feels like a relief, like he’s not alone, and he’s more grateful for that than ever before.

Then, Nathan is sitting up. Slowly and with something he hopes is regret. Selfish of him, maybe. He turns his eyes to the ceiling and braces himself. “Did someone _hit_ you?”

Simon blinks at the outrage there, the gentle fingers that press to his jaw and direct his head to the side. He can see it there, the unfamiliar seemingly genuine expression on Nathan’s face. The curl of his lip, the furrowing of his brow. He’s enraptured how early morning Nathan is just as beautiful as any other version of him, hair more mussed than usual and lines on his cheek from where he’d been resting against the zipper of the hoodie Simon’s wearing.

“Did you get mugged? Do- We can-” He looks rather frustrated, but then he’s leaning off the mattress and scrabbling for something.

He can feel his words starting to stick in his throat again, overwhelmed already. It’s going to be a bad day.

“What’d he look like? Kelly’s stronger than me, she’ll give’em a proper beating. She’s butch.” He’s snapped open his phone and is firmly pressing buttons.

Simon finds the brain power to reach out and stop Nathan’s hands. He doesn’t want anyone to know, he doesn’t even want Nathan to know. It would be ten times worse with Kelly showing up demanding details, she could read his mind. That might actually come in handy in this situation, considering his current inability to speak.

“Barry,” Nathan sounds even more frustrated, exasperated, something. He tries to move the phone away, but Simon manages to grab hold of it and take it from him. Nathan makes an angry sound, his jaw tensing visibly. “You- Last night, you were…”

Simon shuts the phone and sets it aside, sitting back against the railing of the mezzanine. He fidgets with the sleeves of Nathan’s hoodie, glancing up warily at him. His eyes are bright, wide, almost like he might start crying.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Nathan admits weakly. “You were shakin’ and cryin’ and twitchin’ and shit, and you wouldn’t let me-” He looks away, bites his lip, sounding suspiciously wobbly when he speaks again. “I didn’t do it right, so just tell me what he looked like so I can make it up, a’right?”

Simon stares at him, honestly baffled. He hadn’t realized Nathan would take this so personally, that he would feel responsible somehow. He reaches for Nathan’s phone, opens up a text message to himself, and starts to type. When he’s finished, he turns it to Nathan.

**NOT YOUR FAULT.**

Nathan frowns, looks at him funny. “What's wrong with you?”

Simon looks back down at the phone and wonders how he’s meant to fit what would likely be a short-story length explanation into fifty characters. Nobody ever really noticed when he didn’t talk when he was younger, it was usually brief periods, and he was always pretty quiet in general. But Nathan seemed like he never wanted to stop talking to Simon, asked so many questions. He likely had more questions than answers about Simon than Simon did about Nathan.

He decides to start simple.

**CAN’T TALK. NOT HURT.**

“Did you see a guy kill someone and he beat you up and used his power to turn you mute?!” Nathan demands, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Simon manages a small half-smirk for that one, he shakes his head and looks back down at the phone.

**HAPPENS SOMETIMES**

Nathan moves next to him to read over his shoulder as he types, leaning carefully into him. He squints down at it and tilts his head slightly, mouthing the words to himself briefly. “What, then? You just can’t talk sometimes, just cause?” He turns disbelieving eyes to Simon.

Simon shrugs uncomfortably, he’s not sure how to explain it. Because yeah, sometimes it just happens. It’s happened while he was with the others before, but they were so busy talking they never noticed. He’d tried to speak up and just couldn’t. But it happens a lot more when he’s had a meltdown, or if he’s overwhelmed.

“How come you never said?” Nathan seems to think on his words briefly, grimacing. “I-I mean like, _after_. Or whatever. You never told me, I said you could tell me stuff, ‘member?”

Simon nods.

“What about last night, then?” He asks, dropping his chin on Simon’s shoulder.

He debates this for a moment, then carefully begins to type.

**I’M AUTISTIC**

Nathan makes a scoff of a noise. “I gathered that, Barry.” He murmurs. Simon shrugs him off his shoulder and shoots him a glare.

The other opens his mouth to say something, likely complain with the look on his face, but then he pauses. “Wait,” He shakes his head. “So you were having some kinda fit _because_ you’re autistic or because _you’re autistic_?”

Simon is beyond parsing that one out. And Nathan must be able to read that on his face, because he sighs and looks away. “Autistic people have fits, right? I seen it, I went to primary school with an autistic kid.”

Simon feels a mottle of emotions as he types out his next message.

**MELTDOWNS**

Nathan once again squints to read it, Simon’s starting to think he might need glasses. That’s for another time, though. “That’s what you call it?” Nathan’s face screws up, Simon gives a timid nod. “So last night, you had one of those… Meltdowns.” He says it like he’s not sure if he should, like the word is foreign and he’s being cautious.

Simon nods.

“Do you do that a lot?”

He hesitates, then goes back to the phone.

**WOULD THAT BOTHER YOU?**

“A’course it bothers me, Barry!” Simon’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes widening. But then Nathan looks at him and his expression seems to gentle along with his voice. “It bothers me that I didn’t know what to do, it bothers me th-that you were so… fuckin’ _upset_!” He gestures helplessly.

And that, well, he surely wasn’t expecting that either.

“You shouldn’t be s-so upset; _my Barry_ shouldn’t be upset. ‘Specially not where I can’t fix it.” His voice quiets near the end and he seems to deflate then, looking down at his lap. “I hate it, y’know? You’re my Barry.”

He’s never really referred to Simon like that, in that oddly possessive and loving manner. It makes him feel like he belongs, like Nathan really does care, he must have. Simon sets the phone down and reaches up, brushing his thumb over Nathan’s cheek and leaning over as he raises his head to press their mouths together in a soft kiss. Nathan hums under his breath, he does that sometimes when they kiss. Like he can’t help himself, like he’s so pleased. It makes Simon smile into the next kiss.

When he pulls back, Nathan follows, straddling his lap and sitting himself down. Simon wraps his arms around the other’s waist, pulling him in close. He tucks his chin onto Nathan’s shoulder, the older boy squeezing him tightly.

“Nobody should hit you, not a soul should lay a fuckin’ finger on you.” Nathan says quietly, firmly. “I might not be able to throw a good punch but I sure as shit can fuck up their life for hittin’ you.”

Simon picks the phone back up off the mattress and uses one hand to type out the truth. He sits with his cheek pressed to the juncture between Nathan’s neck and shoulder for a moment, staring at the words. He debates erasing it, telling him he just got mugged. It would be a lot simpler, though it’d be hard to explain suddenly getting kicked out.

_I said you could tell me stuff, ‘member?_

He gently taps Nathan’s back, and when he leans back out of the embrace, Simon pulls the phone between them to show him the screen.

**MY DAD**

Nathan’s face screws up a bit, and he looks up at Simon, confused. “What about him?”

Simon reaches up gingerly, brushing his fingers to his cheek. He can practically see it click in his head; the way his wrenched-up face falls mildly slack. He looks down and reads the words again, then nods his head slowly. “Do you want me to kill him?”

That’s not something he ever considered; they could likely figure it out though. Simon could likely figure it out honestly, but would he be willing to do something so vile? Kill his own father? Step back and let Nathan figure it out? He’d probably botch the job if it were just him, Simon would have to help. Would the others help, or would this just be another thing that’s beyond them all? Accidental death, killing someone to protect themselves, that’s one thing. Petty revenge, that’s another.

But he did kill Lucy out of revenge, and nobody said a thing. Maybe it’s different, when it comes to that, she did kill Nathan. Simon’s dad only hit him.

“Simon?” He looks up, finding Nathan staring at him, his head tilted slightly. “Do you want me to kill him? I’ll get Kelly to help, you know how protective she gets.”

That’s true… But still…

He shakes his head, Nathan sighs, like he expected that but he’s still disappointed. “You’re not going back home. Not to that prick.”

Simon would protest, but he’s not sure if he can go back home even if he forced Nathan to let him. Not like Nathan could control him though, it’d probably just cause a row. He takes the phone and writes out another message.

**HE THREW ME OUT**

Nathan’s eyes narrow, not just from reading this time. “What fuckin’ for?”

**I SPIT IN HIS FACE**

That earns a stunned bark of a laugh. “For hittin’ you?”

**HE SHOUTS AT ME**

That seems to sober Nathan a little more. “You said you didn’t get along, you didn’t say…” Nathan sighs once more. “Ugh, you’re such a tight-lipped little twat sometimes.” He reaches up and brushes a finger under his chin affectionately to tell Simon that he’s only kidding. “You’ll stay here, we’ll figure it out. We can get jobs; we’ll get a flat or somethin’.”

The warmth in his chest makes him feel all the more thankful for Nathan. He leans in and kisses him again, which is quickly broken when Nathan pulls back abruptly.

“What about Lizzie?”

Simon frowns, confused.

“Will she be all right? We could phone the police, get a social worker involved. They’re not the best, but you said you got grandparents in Wales, right? Maybe they could take her.” He suggests. “Or we could wait it out, get a place. I dunno if they’d let us have her, you’re only eighteen. We might could just take her and leave; she got a passport?”

Simon’s downright touched that he seems to be so worried about Lizzie, that he’d be willing to take her in just as easily as he’d take Simon. Even if that meant struggling, even if that meant working harder, even if it meant breaking the law. It probably wouldn’t work for a week, but Nathan seemed to be determined to try.

**IT’S ME HE DOESN’T LIKE**

“What, cause you’re autistic?” Nathan demands.

Simon shrugs, he supposes that was part of it. Anything that made him anything but normal, anything under his father’s standards.

“Fuck ‘im,” Nathan leans back on his hands, legs still around Simon’s waist. “We’ll be kings of the community centre, whole place to ourselves. No little sisters and nosey mothers to walk in on us.”

Simon shakes his head, but finds a small smile growing on his face.

“You know, I’ve got ADHD.” Nathan tells him, Simon gives him his best sarcastic ‘Oh _really?_ ’ look.

“Don’t give me that look!” He laughs. “I am, so y’know. We fit, yeah?”

Simon nods, that’s a good way to put it. They fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Trigger Warning. This chapter contains child abuse. Even though Simon is technically eighteen, I think it still constitutes as child abuse so I'm playing it safe. Simon touches on years of verbal and emotional abuse from his father, and at the very beginning of the chapter he is physically assaulted by his dad for spitting in his face. It's also hinted at that his father doesn't approve of his diagnosis, or doesn't believe it, though it's never really detailed on. 
> 
> Simon also suffers a meltdown as a result of the fight with his father, and then afterwards is nonverbal for a period of time. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Make sure to leave a kudos or a comment if you liked. I love to hear from you guys! )


	3. Saying Goodbye

The next couple days aren’t the best, but they’re easier somehow. Simon feels just a little more comfortable even though he’s living at the community centre now. It’s more of an emotional comfort, because being honest with Nathan and earning back the support he never thought he’d get was a relief. He climbs onto the ratty pallet with Nathan at night and feels less like he’s harboring secrets, like he has to put up a front. He still does to an extent; he thinks it’s ingrained into him to act like people expect him to act. But it’s not so bad now.

Kelly had asked about the bruise on his face, and he’d hesitated only a brief moment before telling the truth. She’d been pissed off, Curtis and Alisha seemed miffed as well. Kelly had offered to beat him up, and Simon had shrugged it all off. Just because he felt somewhat more comfortable didn’t mean he wanted to have casual chats about his shitty dad. Or confront the idea that his delinquent friends were willing to hurt people for him. It felt like being in a gang, and he found he quite liked the solidarity of it.

But he couldn’t hide from his family forever, he and Nathan knew that. He didn’t have his phone, he didn’t have any clothes aside from some spares he left at the centre in his locker. Nathan’s body wash felt wrong, and his toothpaste made him want to vomit. He needed his stuff.

The only problem was that, well, he was a bit scared to go home. Not of being hurt, or even really being yelled at by his dad. He was worried what his mum might say, what Lizzie would say. He didn’t want them to hate him too, Lizzie for abandoning her, and his mum for being such a problem child. He doesn’t say any of this to Nathan, he has a hard time talking about things like that.

So instead, he just tells him he’s nervous, and Nathan volunteers to go with him the night before. “Kelly said if you needed help getting your stuff, she’d help.”

“I’m not… Afraid of him.” He hesitates, almost wants to shut up entirely. But Nathan’s quiet where he’s sitting, munching on a bag of crisps and looking at him patiently. Trying so hard, he deserves the same from Simon. “M-My mother, she’ll be disappointed.”

Nathan makes a face, opening his mouth, then promptly shutting it just as fast. He takes a moment to think, he’s been doing that lately instead of just opening his mouth and blurting out whatever comes to mind. Simon thinks it’s because they’ve talked about his inability to think before he speaks, which has ended with a few arguments because he’s said something insensitive. Simon can’t exactly fault him, he’s got a bit of a tendency to do the same thing, just not to the same degree.

“Way I figure, you pleased your mum all the time, you’d live her life. Not yours, yeah?” Nathan offers.

And well, that makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it?

“Plus, mums are impossible to please anyway.” He shrugs.

“Is that part of the handbook?” Simon murmurs, mildly amused.

“Probably,” Nathan shrugs.

Simon moves then, positioning himself on his back with his head in Nathan’s lap. He likes to tuck his face against Nathan’s stomach, smell the strange mix of shitty laundry detergent and whatever made Nathan smell like he does.

Nathan sets his crisps aside, wipes his hand off on his jeans, and uses his other hand to curl his fingers into Simon’s hair. He hadn’t ironed it out in quite a while, probably since he and Nathan finally got together. It was a lot less hassle, and though he missed being able to drag his hand across his smooth bangs sometimes, he found he quite liked it as is.

The others had found it quite funny, Alisha said she was impressed he knew how to even use a flat iron. He doesn’t think that was a compliment, but she never really hands out compliments anyway. Kelly had told him she liked it, and Curtis said he looked cooler. He didn’t know about feeling cooler, but it felt like he was growing into himself, if anything.

Sometimes it felt like his friends were teaching him so many things at once, just by being around him. Not how to be like them, more like how to be unafraid and unashamed to be himself. Their brash personalities, it was hard to feel stupid about being himself when he found it impressive that they did that themselves. If he admired it in them, then surely it couldn’t be so bad to just be himself.

“Don’t fall asleep, you’re in your trousers.” Nathan says teasingly, poking him in the side.

“I’m not,” He rolls onto his back, head still pillowed on Nathan’s thigh.

“Nah, doesn’t take a mind reader to hear you think.” He teases, Simon huffs. “I mean it, I think you got so much goin’ on in there it spills out your ears.”

He sticks his finger in Simon’s ear for emphasis, and Simon retaliates by sticking a hand under his arm. Nathan yelps and curls his arm back, ticklish. He glares down at Simon. “You bastard.”

“You stuck your finger in my ear.”

Nathan sticks his finger in his mouth, popping it out and lurching for Simon’s head with it. Simon grabs him by the waist and holds him back, both wrestling and laughing with each other. When they finally stop, Nathan is positioned atop Simon’s hips and cheering victoriously. Simon doesn’t interrupt his win by mentioning that he could easily throw the other off, he’s just a little out of breath and needed a break.

“I’ll take my prize now.” Nathan says to him, and then leans down for a kiss. Simon happily reciprocates.

-

They’ve been standing outside Simon’s house for nearly five minutes. Nathan is sitting on the sidewalk nearby, watching Simon pace back and forth. He won’t go up to the door, but he won’t leave either. Nathan has been blessedly patient, though he’s starting to fidget, which tells Simon he’s getting bored.

“I could still call Kelly.” He offers once more.

“He’s not home.” Simon tells Nathan, who frowns at him. “It’s Tuesday, he’s at work until six. Mum until five.”

“Then what the hell are we doing outside?”

He doesn’t pause in his pacing. “Lizzie’s here.”

Nathan gets up then, walking closer and hesitantly stepping in his way. Simon stops, glancing down at their feet. He feels sick to his stomach.

“Barry,” Nathan wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him closer. Simon turns his eyes to Nathan’s chest, which is nearly at eye level.

The other sighs and reaches up, pushing his hair back from his forehead and ruffling it ever so slightly. He doesn’t say anything though, he must be expecting something from Simon. But he’s not sure how to articulate that he’s worried about his sister hating him, about how he doesn’t know how he’d function without his mum and his sister in his life. That he can survive with Nathan, but the threat of not having a family is like a big flashing sign in his head that makes him want to cry.

He opens his mouth to say something, to say anything, and then both their heads turn as the front door of Simon’s home opens. “Simon!”

Lizzie comes scrambling down the porch steps, and Simon steps back from Nathan and turns just in time to get an armful of his sister. He wraps his arms around her, tucking his head down and pressing his face to the top of her head. She smells like that sickly sweet artificial shampoo she likes that Simon can’t stand.

“We were so worried,” She steps back, clutching his shirt at his sides as she looks up at him. “Mum told me you and dad got into it and he kicked you out.”

He’s not sure what to say, he glances to Nathan, who doesn’t offer any help.

“What happened to your face?” She reaches up and touches his cheek.

Simon’s tongue trips over itself momentarily, he clears his throat and gently grabs her wrist. “Nothing, it’s all right.”

“Mum’s been worried sick, her and dad have gotten into it twice.” She looks near tears, and Simon’s heart aches at the sight of it. “Are you gonna talk to dad and ask him to let you come home?”

Simon looks over at Nathan again, who just gives him a sympathetic look. He turns back to Lizzie and crouches down, taking her hands. “I can’t live here anymore, not right now. I came to pick up some things.”

“But you have to!” Lizzie insists. “Mum’s so boring and dad’s an ass!”

Nathan makes a snort of a noise, but when they both turn their heads he’s looking off in the distance with a hand over his mouth.

“I can’t stay home forever,” Simon stands up, wrapping an arm around her and leading her to the front door. “Dad was going to kick me out eventually.”

They walk inside, Simon holds the door open for Nathan to come in behind them before he shuts it. Nathan heads upstairs with a nod from Simon, leaving him to deal with Lizzie.

“But dad’s pissed, you need to make up.” She urges. “Otherwise, he won’t let you come home ever.”

Simon wants to tell her that it might already be past that point. “Liz,”

“What about Christmas at nan and taid’s house?” She insists.

“I don’t know.” He admits honestly.

“What about birthdays?” She exclaims.

“I don’t know.”

“What about-”

He cuts her off then. “I don’t know, Elizabeth!” He shouts.

It seems to stun her into quieting, her eyes holding a mild sheen of tears. He pulls in a deep breath and sighs heavily, reaching up to rub at his eyes. He feels like a massive prick, taking off and worrying his sister and then coming home just to shout at her. But he’s under a lot of stress too, he’s essentially homeless now and he might just end up getting cut out of some of the family.

Lizzie reaches out and takes his wrist, pleading with him. “Just say you’re sorry, you know how he is. What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Simon mutters.

“I talked about Nathan; did you tell him he’s your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then _what_?”

Simon inhales slowly, then leans back against the rail of the stairs as he crosses his arms. “I spat in his face and he hit me.”

A silent pause, one second, two.

“I won’t be stepped on anymore, Liz.” He murmurs. “I’m not like you, I’ll never be good enough for him. All he does is treat me awful and shout at me. It’ll be better like this, for all of us.”

“Well, where are you gonna go?” She asks in frustration.

“Nathan and I are planning to get a flat.” He admits.

He’s surprised when she collides into him again, hugging him tightly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

He feels his throat tighten slightly as he hugs her back. “I’ll be back.” He promises quietly.

“Love you.”

Simon shuts his eyes tightly, tries to put those words somewhere he’ll never forget them. “I love you too, butterfly.”

-

Eventually, he has to extricate himself from his sister and head upstairs to pack some stuff. He can’t take everything, especially not where they’re living. He could likely come back for it later, he doesn’t think his mum or dad would throw anything out. When he steps into the room, feeling emotionally exhausted, Nathan is sitting on his bed with Simon’s satchel.

“I didn’t want to dig in your stuff, you said you don’t like people touching shit.”

Simon nods gratefully, then moves to his closet to fetch his suitcase. He figures for now he can bring his satchel, suitcase, and backpack. He’ll need clothes, toiletries, and maybe a few personal items. It takes him a while, he’s methodical in his ways. Nathan occupies himself by using Simon’s computer at his desk, browsing the internet or something. He’s too caught up in other things.

In the back of his mind, his thoughts are racing, and his body is on autopilot tending to his stuff. It’s automatic to sort things the way they should be, fold them properly and tightly so that everything fits. He can’t bring everything, so he has to play priority, but that’s not too difficult. Some clothing he likes better than others, some things are more necessary for the current weather.

He’s scared, no, terrified. Leaving home is huge, and he’s never known living in any other way. He’s got money he’s saved up over the years, in his bank account and some stashed away for emergencies. He grabs the envelope out from underneath his mattress, and shoves that into the front pocket of his backpack. He doesn’t know how Nathan did it, how he coped with being thrown out. Just continued on and acted like nothing was wrong when it felt like Simon’s world was starting to cave in.

“Barry?” He blinks and realizes that he’s started to cry, tears streaking down his cheeks and sniffling as his nose begins to run.

He looks up and finds Nathan standing at the foot of the bed. Simon squeezes his eyes shut and reaches up to press his fingers to his eyes. He feels like an idiot, Nathan probably never shed a tear over something so stupid. It’s just a room, it’s just a bed. It’s not like he was that close with his mum and dad to begin with.

He can hear Nathan shuffle around the bed, drop down next to him and move his suitcase out of the way. The second he touches Nathan, Simon is lurching forward to hug him, a quiet sob escaping him. Nathan falls back, using the momentum to tug Simon into his lap. He’s never really sat on Nathan’s lap before, but the other cradles him carefully and Simon finds himself burying his face in the other’s neck to soak up the comfort.

“It’s gonna be all right,” Nathan promises quietly, rubbing at his back. “We’ll figure it out, yeah?”

Simon holds onto him, the only solid thing in his life anymore somehow. He never figured Nathan Young would be the only person, the only staple in his life that he could rely on at any point, but he’d quickly become that in just a few days. He’d always seen himself as the rock, but it seemed like that was a mutual role now.

When he pulls back finally, Nathan cups his cheek in his hand. “Don’t gotta be scared or nothin’, okay?”

Simon blinks more tears out of his eyes, reaching up to wipe at them as he nods pitifully. He shouldn’t be afraid; he shouldn’t be worried. He’s got Nathan, they have a temporary roof over their heads. They can figure it out. He uses the palm of his hand to wipe roughly at one eye as he gathers himself.

Nathan clicks his tongue quietly. “Bazza.” He uses a thumb to wipe at Simon’s cheek.

Simon moves in for another hug, which Nathan accepts easily. “I love you.” He murmurs into Nathan’s shoulder.

The words make Nathan tense up slightly, and Simon worries that maybe he shouldn’t be saying that. He’d said it before, under the influence of the tattoo, but this is different. Maybe Nathan’s not ready for it, maybe it’d scare him off. Simon can’t afford that right now.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, leaning back and moving out of his lap to grab for his suitcase. Maybe they can just forget it.

He’s just getting back into the rhythm of packing when Nathan leans over from behind him, kisses the back of his head. “All right?”

Simon nods his head, reaches up to rub at the tight feeling on his cheek where the tears had spilled over and dried on his skin. Nathan just rubs his back again, not moving away just yet. It almost feels like he’s going to say something, and Simon holds his breath and fidgets with a shirt in his hands while he waits. But then Nathan gets up and heads back to the computer without a word.

When he finishes packing, he just sort of sits there for a while. The room isn’t nearly empty, he still has knick-knacks and stuff in his closet, some in his dresser. He packed some books, some DVDs, but nothing near his whole collection. He wants to curl up on his bed and nap, he’s so tired. But his mum will be home anytime soon, and he doesn’t think he can handle talking to her right now.

“Nate,” He looks back, Nathan turns his head.

“Ready?” Simon nods his head, so Nathan gets up.

“Could you,” Simon picks up his satchel and flips it open. “Put my laptop and charger in here? I’ll take everything else down.”

“Okay.”

Simon slings his backpack over his shoulder and picks up his suitcase, walking out quickly. He stops downstairs at the door, setting his things down and stepping into the living room. He gazes around, taking a final look at everything. He should tell Lizzie he’s leaving, if he can find her. He moves through the living room into the kitchen, but she’s not there either.

“Simon!” He walks back into the living room, spotting the girl standing in the foyer in front of the stairs. When she sees him, she rushes to meet him. “I wanted to give you these.”

She holds out a cardboard envelope, which he opens. Inside are some pictures that he removes carefully to look at. He flips through a few of them, feeling a bit like he might cry again as he does so. They’re pictures of Simon and Lizzie from over the years. He stops to stare at one, Lizzie couldn’t have been older than six. They’re both dressed in their winter attire, and he’s got her propped on his back as she waves to the camera.

He remembers that morning, during a visit to their grandparents’ house. It had snowed on Christmas Eve, he had woken up to Lizzie jumping on his bed begging him to play outside with her. Their other cousins were already outside by the time he got dressed, he really hadn’t wanted to play outside in the cold wet weather. But still, despite the painful cold, he could still recall the fun he’d had throwing snowballs and helping Lizzie and their cousin Jenny make a snowman.

He has a shy smirk on his face in the picture, so young, likely about twelve. His hair had gotten long, spilling out from under his hat. His taid had told him he needed to cut it, and Simon’s father had agreed. He wondered if last Christmas would be the last Christmas he spent there. Despite all his annoying cousins and having to put up with his dad and his Aunt Mari sniping about meaningless crap, it was still something he’d miss.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, shoving them back into the envelope.

Lizzie lunges into him for another hug, which he returns. “I’ll talk to nan, she’ll have a cow if you aren’t at Christmas. You’re her favorite.”

“Did she tell you that?” Simon smiles.

Lizzie leans back, an exasperated look on her face. “She tells everyone that.”

Simon chuckles at that and pulls away to walk to the foyer. Nathan comes down the stairs about the same time, satchel thrown over his shoulder. Simon turns and grabs his jacket, having missed it dearly since he left. Its familiar weight is a relief when he slips it on over the jacket Nathan had loaned him.

“Nathan?” Lizzie calls as he stops at the base of the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Be good to Simon, okay?”

Nathan smirks. “I’ll certainly try, Liz.”

“Oh,” She says, as if she just remembered. “He’s awful mopey when he’s sick, but he likes it when you pet his hair and rub his back.”

Simon can feel his ears starting to warm, Nathan just looks delighted. “Anything else?”

“Make sure he drinks enough; he forgets to and it gives him headaches and then he gets grumpy.” She says.

“Lizzie.” Simon hisses at her.

Lizzie steps closer and pulls at Nathan’s arm, standing up on her toes as Nathan leans down so she can whisper in his ear. When she steps back, Nathan seems to have sobered some.

“All right.” He says, then turns to Simon. “Let’s hit it, Barry.”

Nathan steps out of the door, already walking down the steps. Simon picks up his suitcase and backpack once more. He steps outside after Nathan, then he looks back at Lizzie, who smiles at him from the doorway. “What did you say to him?”

“Something he should know.” She shrugs.

“Lizzie,” He warns.

Lizzie just smiles at him. “Bye Simon, love you!” She quickly shuts the door, and leaves Simon reeling.

He turns and moves quickly down the steps, after Nathan. He takes a second to catch up, but Nathan pays him no mind. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’ bad.” Nathan shrugs.

“Tell me.” Simon insists.

Nathan rolls his eyes. “You’re so uptight sometimes.”

“Nathan!” He stops in his tracks, turning to face Simon. “What did she tell you?”

“Sit on the aisle seat if you take the bus together.” Nathan recites, smirking. “Bus rides make you nervous, and you don’t like strangers touching you.”

Simon feels his face flushing, he scowls and glances back towards his house, or what once was his house. He can’t be mad at Lizzie for divulging these things, they weren’t exactly secrets, just things to know about him. Things she thought Nathan should know, to be with Simon, to take care of him. He doesn’t think that he needs to be taken care of all that much, but he appreciates it all the same. Plus, he takes care of Nathan sometimes, maybe that’s what it’s meant to be like.


	4. The Girl in the Locker Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( An early update, extremely early. Guess I was just in a good writing mood. I'm hoping to get a Christmas chapter up before the new year so I'm going kind of hard right now while my inspiration is upon me. Hope you like it! )

There’s something jarring about living in the community centre, and not just that it’s a public facility and they sleep on a makeshift mattress. His old room was perfect in its own way, the one place in the world that it felt like Simon fully unclenched. He went home to recharge, to feel better, and now he didn’t have that. It was necessary for him, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take constantly being away from that.

His mother had been in contact with him, she hadn’t asked him home, just asked if he was doing well and had a place to stay. They didn’t talk about his father, in fact, she didn’t ask about the fight at all. The only thing she did was promise to loan him some money. It hurt, but he was more disappointed than surprised. The whole situation had been weighing on him, to say the least.

Ultimately, he’s been a bit tense the last few days. Nathan’s gotten snapped at a few times for grating his nerves when he wasn’t in the mood, and as a result they had been keeping their distance from each other. Nathan had been switching between pouting and being passive aggressive with him, and sometimes he just wants to strangle the other. He doesn’t know how to convey how hard it is for him, he can’t just pack up and move like Nathan. He needs the stability of home and his own space.

He takes hot showers in the morning, which help a modicum. He stands under the nearly scalding stream, closes his eyes and pretends that he’s in his old place. The sound of the water on the tiles, the bliss of the heat, it’s one of the few things he enjoys here.

When he steps out of the shower that morning, he still feels a little tight. That’s the best way he can think to describe it, he’s not seconds from snapping, he’s just never quite relaxed. It’s starting to drive him crazy.

He turns the corner to approach his locker, wearing only a towel around his waist. He lays eyes upon a young woman in only her bra and underwear, and her head snaps over to him. She covers herself quickly, and Simon turns on his heel to face away, covering his eyes for good measure. The image is burned into his brain anyways, not that it’s exactly a bad one.

“Why is everyone in here this morning?” The woman groans, rustling around. “First that mouthy pervert earlier and now you!”

_Nathan_ , Simon thinks to himself.

“S-Sorry,” He mumbles, keeping a firm grip on his towel.

“At least you have the decency to look away, that other guy just stared at me.”

“Tall, curly hair?” Simon offers.

“You know him?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a wanker.” She tells him firmly.

“He is.” Simon agrees with a small smirk to himself.

He honestly can’t be surprised, nor can he be quite offended. He knows that Nathan tends to have no boundaries, not to mention no filter. But he’s not exactly innocent either, if this girl knew his power and what he’d done with it at one point or another in this very room she’d call him a pervert as well. He’s not saying it’s right, it’s just true.

“I’m decent, you can look now.” He cautiously lowers his hand, feeling embarrassed when he realizes he’s the exposed one now.

He slowly approaches his locker, keeping his head down. He can feel the girl’s eyes on him, and he isn’t certain what exactly to do. When he cautiously looks over at her, she’s peeking over her open locker door. Simon realizes that she must be checking him out, which has him blushing. She quickly looks away again, turning around.

“Sorry,” She sounds embarrassed, shuts her locker door. “I-I don’t know why I did that.”

“I-It’s fine.” Simon assures, mildly uncomfortable.

“I’ll be going now.” She scurries out of the locker room, and Simon feels a small rush of something. Confidence, pleasure, content. He doesn’t think he’d ever really been checked out before. Especially by such a beautiful woman.

He gets dressed, then heads to the bathroom to fix his hair and brush his teeth. As he’s got a mouth full of foam, staring tiredly into the mirror, Nathan comes waltzing in. He’s already in his uniform, looking cheerful as ever. Simon’s honestly jealous, he wishes he could look upon the situation with that sort of energy. Or at least be able to fake it to that degree.

“Did you see that bird in here earlier?”

Simon spits into the sink and wipes his mouth. “She said you were being a pervert.”

“She’s the one gettin’ dressed in the middle of the unisex locker room. She was bent over; I just took a glance!” He insists. “Then she gets all bent out of shape and I say that she’d do the same if it was me in those fancy knickers.”

Simon, having taken a sip of water from the faucet during the story, spits once more. “I came out in my towel and she stared at me.”

“Oh, so I get an eyeful and I’m a pervert, but she checks out my boyfriend and it’s all right.” Nathan throws his hands up, approaching the sinks. “Double standards, man. That’s that misogyny shit.”

“Misandry.” Simon corrects idly, then thinks about it. “I don’t think you know how to use that word right, though.”

“I can use whatever words in whatever way I like, especially when you’re whoring around the locker room!” Nathan jumps up to sit on the counter.

Simon gives him an affronted look. “I was taking a shower.”

“Yeah, probably dropped your towel so she could catch a glimpse of all your pale glistening skin and that pert hairy ass.” Nathan says, and Simon realizes he must be joking.

“Maybe I did.” Simon shrugs, adjusting his hair in the mirror and feigning casualty.

Nathan gasps dramatically, clutching at his chest. Definitely kidding then, Simon smirks. “Barry, you harlot!”

The light to the bathroom shuts off suddenly, and Simon frowns into the dark. He glances back towards the door, and sees it swing shut, plunging them into pitch black. He turns away from the mirror, straining his eyes to see in the dark. He feels Nathan reach out, grip his arm.

“Who’s there?!” Nathan calls out, slipping off the counter. “We have blackbelts, you don’t want to mess with us!”

Simon hears the sound of a rough impact, Nathan grunting in pain before his hand slips away from Simon’s arm. He swings his arm out, suddenly frantic at the realization that someone had hit Nathan. There’s a scuffle, and Simon stumbles forward blindly.

“Nate?” Something hits him in the side of the head, sending him careening into a nearby wall.

Hands grab hold of his upper arms, yanking him forward and slamming him back against the wall. His head pulses with pain, but he keeps his wits about him. Simon kicks his leg out, forcing his attacker back. He takes a risk and lunges forward, gets lucky when he collides with a person and tackles them to the ground. He pulls his hand back, ready to start wailing on the other as hands reach up desperately to grab at his shirt and neck.

“Barry, wait!” He flinches, realizing the voice came from beneath him.

“Nathan?” He sits back, climbs off the other carefully and hauls him up beside him. “Where did he go?”

“I dunno, I was huntin’ for the lights.”

Both their heads turn when some light filters in, a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure escaping the room is all they get before they’re back in the dark. Simon climbs to his feet, bringing Nathan up beside him. They walk over in the direction of the door, and Simon locates the light switch. Light floods the room once more, fluorescents humming to life and blinding the both of them.

“What the hell kinda bastard shuts the lights off and blitzes you?!” Nathan groans.

When he can see properly, Simon turns to look at Nathan. He’s got a bloody nose, but other than that seems relatively okay. Simon doesn’t know what they were hit with, but it really hurt. His head is killing him.

Nathan looks up at him, still blinking against the light, and he winces at the sight of Simon. “You’re bleedin’.”

“You too.” Simon mumbles, but reaches up to where he got hit. Sure enough, there’s blood starting to dribble down his temple.

“Can’t we have five minutes without our lives bein’ threatened?” Nathan complains loudly, wiping messily under his nose only to cringe in pain as he smears blood further onto his face and now onto his hands.

Simon flinches away from the volume of his voice, walking over to the sinks to wash the blood away. The smell seems worse with his headache, he ends up ducking his head under the faucet and trying to scrub as much as he can away. The pain from the abrasion is nothing compared to the smell, to the throb in his head.

“Barry,”

He crushes his palm to the wound as he shuts off the water, unable to stand the noise of the faucet any longer. When Nathan presses a hand to his back, he stiffens, and the touch is quickly gone.

“Do ya want me to leave, or am I meant to stay close?” Nathan asks warily.

Simon doesn’t know, he couldn’t answer if he did. He just needs a second to breathe and get ahold of himself, he can handle this. He keeps his eyes shut, balling his free hand in the hem of his shirt and twisting it tensely. His breaths sound loud, echoing off the walls, but it gives him something to focus on somehow.

When he opens his eyes again, Nathan is still there. He had moved a bit and managed to wipe the rest of the blood off his face, leaning now against the sinks. “You good?”

Simon nods his head, exhales slowly. “Yes.”

“C’mon then, let’s go call Kelly.” Nathan holds his hand out, Simon reaches out and tests the waters by taking it. Nathan’s hand is warm, soft, he squeezes Simon’s hand.

-

Nathan’s been glaring at the girl from the locker room all day. She’s planning some sort of dance for a charity run, and they’re being forced to help set up for it. Simon can’t be sure if it was actually her, it was rather dark, and they had both been knocked in the head. Nathan had told the others all about it, and they had been on alert since then.

When the woman approaches him, looking nervous, he can only stand there uncomfortably. As she makes awkward jokes and stumbles over her words, he just fidgets with his jumpsuit collar. She seems nice, maybe it wasn’t her. She could have left and someone else might have come in, someone with much more sinister intentions.

He startles a bit when someone grabs him from behind, but he quickly recognizes the arms wrapping around his chest as he’s tugged back onto his heels into Nathan’s chest. He lets out a grunt at the slightly rough movement but doesn’t struggle, simply reaches up to grab at the other’s arms around his chest automatically.

“Look who we have here!” Nathan says, a sharp smile on his face.

Jessica’s expression has hardened into a glare. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“Boyfriends, actually, love.” Nathan squeezes Simon and presses his cheek to the smaller boy’s ear. “Isn’t that right, Baz?”

“Yes.” Simon nods his head.

“You said he was a wanker.” Jessica points out, and Nathan gasps, affronted.

“He is.” Simon shrugs. “But-”

Nathan cuts him off. “But I’m his wanker, and he’s my little twat. So Courtney-”

“Jessica.” Simon and Jessica say together.

“Whatever, go back to your stupid charity shit. This one’s taken.” He moves, lets go of Simon’s chest only to snag him around the neck with his arm, forcibly leading him away.

When they return to the group, Nathan’s still hanging on Simon a bit. He gets clingy sometimes, which Simon doesn’t mind unless he’s overwhelmed for the moment. Nathan’s mostly clingy during the day anyway, like he wants everyone to know that Simon’s with him. He wants everyone to know that Simon’s taken, that he belongs to someone.

Someone else might have felt suffocated or uncomfortable, but Simon finds it reassuring just to know that someone wants him that much. To know that someone loves him so much that they saw him as something to be shown off.

Love.

Nathan had dodged telling Simon he loved him at his house the other day. He’d been a bit too distracted to think about it much then, but he’s thought about it much more since then. It bothered him a bit that Nathan hadn’t responded, though Nathan struggled to express himself verbally in any honest way. It’s one thing to be rough and rude and act like Simon’s his favorite toy. It’s another to admit that it’s more than just possessiveness and being selfish. It’s caring and empathy and all that other stuff that Nathan maintains he doesn’t possess.

Simon, of course, knows better than that. Nathan just likes to act like nothing can affect him, because so many things have in the past. He’s tired of being vulnerable, feels like he can’t express it without getting hurt. Simon can understand that to an extent, he couldn’t express himself very well either. He was just less afraid to love someone, to care.

A nudge to his chin, he turns his head and finds Nathan still leaned against his back, looking at him with a small frown. “What?”

“Was making sure she didn’t put you under her spell.” Nathan’s face splits into that silly smirk of his.

“Just… Thinking.” He murmurs.

“We can tell.” Alisha huffs from nearby.

“Yeah, mate, don’t hurt yourself.” Curtis smirks at him.

Kelly just gives him a sympathetic look, and he knows she was listening. He doesn’t find it weird anymore, that Kelly can hear his thoughts. Sometimes it’s comforting, to know that if he really needed it, she could be a translator. Help him get all his confusing thoughts out of his head when he can’t.

She smirks at that, pats his arm, and turns back to what they were doing.

-

Simon’s quickly become the tank of their group, having the guts to take people out with a quick blow. He doesn’t enjoy killing, he just deems it a necessity and does what he must. It’s been working out well up until this point. He had been following behind Jessica, looking for any evidence of her killing someone else.

The others had decided to crash the costume party, to keep an eye on things. They were all split up, but each of them had been a bit preoccupied with other things happening. Simon had separated from Nathan at some point, who had gone after Kelly. He had seen Jessica and just started following her, thinking that if anyone could get some sort of evidence, it would be him.

He made himself invisible for a good period of time, but sometimes being invisible for a long while made him feel uncomfortable. It didn’t hurt, it just felt strange after a certain amount of time. So, he’d duck behind a wall and allow himself to breathe. Maybe it took energy from him, and he had to let it recharge or allow himself to rest periodically.

Jessica heads into the bathroom and Simon stands outside, waiting. He shoots a quick text to Nathan about trailing Jessica. He’s visible, and it probably just looks like he’s some guy standing outside waiting for someone while he sits on his phone. It’s near seamless in his opinion, that’s why he’s so surprised when someone approaches and suddenly something is being swung at his head.

He ducks out of the way, his phone slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor, and a fire axe nails the wall where his head had once been. A man stands there, wild-eyed and chest heaving with rage. Simon’s eyes dart to his phone briefly, but it’s too near the man to retrieve. Instead, Simon turns and scrambles down the hall, out the side door, with the man hot on his heels.

He’s afraid to go invisible while in view of the man, always afraid of showing anyone his powers. Instead, he’s just racing around the community centre while a lunatic with an axe chases him down. He reaches the fire escape and starts climbing. He has no idea what to do, will he stop if he sees other people? It was pretty fearless to attack him in the middle of a hallway, public discovery might not sway him.

He opens the second-floor emergency exit, which is fortunately unlocked. He knows the ins and outs of this community centre, and the emergency alarms for the doors had been disconnected long ago. He thinks maybe the probation workers liked to smoke, he’d seen a few of them doing so. Or maybe previous delinquents did it so they could sneak off, he had no idea.

He’s running down the hall, trying desperately to think of an idea. His adrenaline is pumping so fast that he’s going blank, can only think of mundane stupid things that are meaningless like emergency alarms. Something nails him in the back and head, and he staggers down to his knees. He blearily realizes the man had thrown a plastic chair at his back, which he pushes away as he scrambles to his feet.

His breath catches when he hears the sound of the axe cutting through the air, but he must have been just fast enough to avoid its impact. The man behind him growls in frustration as Simon sprints to the stairwell and slams the door open. Up, down, up, down. Party or roof. Party or roof?

He’s halfway up the next flight of stairs when he realizes that he probably should have gone down, but it’s too late now. This is how people get killed in horror movies, he thought he was better than this. He’d never survive Friday the 13th.

Simon throws open the roof door, spotting Curtis standing at the edge of the room. The young man spins to look back, seemingly confused. Simon pauses automatically to catch his breath, legs and lungs aching, and then suddenly something digs into his back. He can hear the sound of his flesh parting underneath the impact, and then it’s yanked out and a boot launches into his knee to send him to the ground.

Everything sort of blurs after that, he can hear all sorts of sounds as he lays facedown. It’s hard to breathe, impossible to move, he can feel the wetness of blood on his back. All he can see is the blurry flooring of the roof, and the distant night sky. Taken down by an axe-wielding maniac at eighteen, victim in a horror story. He didn’t survive Friday the 13th, then.

Seconds, minutes, he’s not sure how long he lays there. He’s starting to feel the pain radiate out from his back, his gasping breaths just slightly out of sync with the throbbing that’s perfectly in tune with his heart. He doesn’t know if it’s so much of a groan as it is a whimper as he’s thrown over onto his back, staring up at a night sky and Curtis, who seems to be on the phone.

Talking frantically, shouting.

Time blurs again, and then Nathan’s leaning over him. Cupping his face, tears in his eyes, shouting at him. And now he can make out the words just a bit, even though everything’s growing fuzzy. 

“Don’t even think about dying, Barry! You don’t get to die, so just hold on, okay?”

He wishes he could manage some words, something beautiful and poetic. He wishes he could say goodbye, or at least remind Nathan that he was so grateful for their time together. But everything starts to grow darker, and he starts to feel cold and numb more than anything else. He tries to memorize Nathan’s face; how beautiful he looks even when he’s distraught.

His eyes slip shut.

“Simon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( I dunno if an early chapter like this classifies as a holiday present or a punishment, but you got it anyways. I'm so sorry for the cliffhanger, but I hope you enjoyed as much as you could! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, make sure to leave a kudos or a comment if you liked! )


	5. A Call from Nain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( You guys probably think I'm nuts for how fast I'm writing this right now but I realized that at the pace I'm going I can get out the Christmas chapter before New Years, which is good. 
> 
> This is just an interlude chapter. Hope you enjoy anyways. )

“Simon!”

It feels like every synapse in his brain, every cell in his body, lights up.

His eyes open, vision warped at the edges. His breaths come a little easier now, and Nathan’s looking down at him, confused, shocked, hopeful. “Barry?” He sounds breathless. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Curtis demands nearby, Simon can hear him much better now.

Nathan shakes his head, at a loss. His eyes haven’t broken away from Simon’s, and he’s starting to get a bit confused now. He’s cradled to Nathan’s chest now, partially in his lap. He can see much better from this vantage point, though his limbs still feel heavy. There’s a dull ache in his back, and if he turns his head there’s a significant puddle of blood on the asphalt below. The maniac who had come after him is laying on the ground nearby, his own axe in the front of his skull.

“Holy fuck.” Alisha’s here, then.

“It must be a power or somethin’.” Kelly is there, smiling incredulously between them. “You brought ‘im back, Nathan.”

Brought who back? 

“I did?” Nathan sounds surprised, still gazing down at Simon with tears in his eyes. “Bazza, can you hear me?”

Simon nods weakly, still confused as to what the hell has happened.

“Good,” Nathan nods, reaching up with a blood-stained hand to use his wrist to wipe under his eye. “ _Never_ do that again, don’t be goin’ off and dyin’ on me. A’right?”

Simon clears his throat; it feels dry and sticky. “Ever?”

Nathan grins, practically glowing as he blinks more tears out of his eyes. “Ever, you prick.”

-

Curtis helps Nathan take Simon downstairs to one of the storage rooms. Where Simon had first confided in Nathan, told him about the probation worker’s dead body in the freezer. He still feels weak, isn’t exactly sure what happened. He’s covered in blood apparently; his superhero costume is absolutely ruined. Nathan’s seems to be as well, so he guesses it isn’t the end of the world.

When he finds the words to express his confusion, Nathan has the top half of his costume down and is looking at his back. He had found a first aid kit in the storage room, there were quite a few of them stored around the centre luckily. Apparently, the wound wasn’t so bad, barely a scratch. Simon finds that hard to believe, but if it were any worse it would have probably killed him. Alisha and Kelly stayed back to talk to the police and try to hide any evidence that Simon was there at all.

Curtis is standing nearby, looking pensive and a bit in awe. He keeps looking at Simon like that, it’s making him uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because-” He starts to say, but Nathan cuts him off.

“Don’t you have a crime scene to clean up?”

“A thanks would be great, actually. If it weren’t for me, he’d have his head chopped off. I doubt you could do what you did if he had.” Curtis snaps back.

Simon turns his head to look back at Nathan; his shoulder twinges a bit. “What’d you do?”

“Tell ‘im.” Curtis demands.

“I don’t know!” Nathan snaps, glaring up at Curtis. Then, uncertain eyes look back to Simon in front of him. “You were all cold and you stopped breathin’, heart stopped, couldn’t wake you.”

“You died.” Curtis says bluntly, Simon looks up at him with a confused frown. “Nathan did somethin’, he brought you back.”

“You did?” Simon asks, puzzled.

“That gash in your back was ginormous, you bled out.” Curtis tells him, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “It was l-like a… a shockwave, and then you were back.”

Quiet, as Simon absorbs this information. He had died, died in Nathan’s arms. And the other, in turn, had unlocked a hidden power and brought him back from the dead. Simon was officially undead, which would be a rather exciting notion had he not felt so exhausted. Is this what Nathan felt like when he died?

Curtis breaks the quiet. “Makes sense, if you think about it. You heal yourself so you come back from the dead, you can do the same for other people too.”

“Well, don’t go off dyin’ yet. I don’t know how I did it.” Nathan grumbles, putting gauze on Simon’s wound after having poured alcohol on it.

After his wound has been bandaged up, Curtis leaves to get them some of their clothes from downstairs to change into. Simon ends up in Nathan’s lap, exhaustion winning over and forcing him into a light doze. Nathan seems off, and he should deal with it, but he’s just so tired. He rests his head against Nathan’s chest, the other holding him firmly.

His voice wakes him out of his doze temporarily. “Barry?”

“Mm?”

“I’ve never loved anyone before.” He murmurs, Simon squints one eye open. “But now you’ve gone and made me love you because you’re a little bastard, gone and got under my skin.”

Simon smiles tiredly. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Nathan grumbles, which is true. “I’m not either, I guess.”

Honestly, that’s all Simon needed to hear.

“You brought me back to life.” He says, still a bit in awe.

“S’it weird to say that it felt like, even if there weren’t a storm, I would have done it anyway?” He asks quietly.

“Very.” Simon admits, earning a quiet laugh from the other.

“I just meant… Felt like bein’ ripped in two, felt like dyin’.” Nathan admits quietly. “Just couldn’t see a world without you.”

Simon understands that, at least.

-

After getting changed, Nathan ended up cuddled up next to Simon in the storage room. That was where Nathan stored their makeshift mattress during the day anyways. Simon had passed out to the sound of the party starting to die downstairs, his cheek mashed into Nathan’s chest. He only wakes up to a hand gingerly shaking him, stubbornly trying to stay asleep despite it.

“Barry,” Nathan murmurs, then the hand rubs at his back. “Bazza…” His voice has turned into a gentle teasing lilt.

Simon puts a hand over his ear, trying to ignore him.

“Your phone rang,” He blinks his eyes open, slowly turning over onto his back.

He had dropped his phone, right before everything happened. But there it is, in Nathan’s hand as he holds it up. Nathan must see his confusion, because he holds it out. “Alisha found it, had me runnin’ around lookin’ for you. Then Curtis called…” He sounds a bit somber as Simon takes his phone.

He sits up, but Nathan continues to lay there as Simon checks his recent calls. His grandmother had called him, which makes his heart star to beat faster for a brief moment. He dials her number, pressing it to his ear and waiting.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Nain, it’s Simon.”

“ _Simon bach, I heard about what’s happened_.” She tells him, sounding affronted. “ _I’m just about ready to wring your father’s neck myself, your mam’s as well_.” 

Simon feels mildly embarrassed. “It’s all right.”

“ _Lizzie told me everything, and to be honest I’m surprised you didn’t snap long ago. I have no idea what Therese was doing when she married that prick_.” Simon can’t help but smile into the receiver.

“You heard I spat at him?” He questions hesitantly.

“ _Nearly wept with pride, your taid laughed his arse off too_.” She tells him, Simon’s smirk turns quickly into a small grin. “ _He’s always been too harsh on you, I never understood that. Perfect angel you were, just the most darling little boy with those sweet little cheeks_.”

“Nain,” He mumbles, embarrassed.

“ _I know, I know, I’ve gotten sidetracked_.” She sighs. “ _I called to talk about some things_.”

Simon glances back at Nathan, who seems to be listening to the conversation the best he can from his spot on their pallet. “What things?”

“ _Your sister didn’t seem to know where you were living, and neither did your mam. You never did have many friends, and I know everything has been a bit of a mess recently._ ” She admits. “ _But I want you to know that if you need a place to stay, you’re always welcome here._ ”

“Oh.” He doesn’t quite know what to say.

“ _Your taid says as long as you don’t piss in any mail slots, you’re welcome._ ” She jokes with a small laugh.

Simon’s face starts to burn, he squeezes his eyes shut. “Nain.”

“ _Oh, I’m only teasing_.” She assures.

“I’m planning to get a flat.” He admits.

“ _By yourself?_ ”

Now’s as good a time as any, isn’t it? “With my boyfriend, Nathan.”

Quiet over the line, Simon looks back at Nathan with a small grimace. The other seems to have a similar expression on his face, but he quickly looks away, like someone looking away from a car wreck. He doesn’t want to draw it out, though. He doesn’t want to lie, it’s not like he’ll likely be seeing them very soon anyways.

“ _Since when do you have one of those?_ ” She doesn’t sound too angry, a bit miffed if anything.

“Not long, w-we met at community service.” He tells her.

“ _Oh, another mailbox pisser?_ ” She asks, Simon frowns, is she joking?

“N-No, he got caught for stealing sweets.” He earns a gentle smack to his arm for that.

“ _Not much of an exemplary citizen, then?_ ”

Simon tilts his head a little. “Neither am I.”

“ _Is he a nice boy?_ ” The woman questions.

Simon thinks about it for a moment, contemplating. “To me.”

“ _A fixer-upper then, like your taid_.” A voice sounds in the background, a deeper noise that he knows must be his grandfather. “ _We met when he pinched my bum in a bar, you know_.” 

Simon knew, he’d heard the story before, in all its disturbing glory. “Yes.”

“ _Do you remember when you were just a bairn, and you used to hang on the fence when some of the older boys down the street would walk home from school_?”

Simon doesn’t, honestly. “N-No.”

“ _You couldn’t have been older than five, but you’d go outside and wait for the three neighbor boys to come by_.” She explains. “ _You’d wave to them and they’d wave to you, I used to watch you from the porch. You always came back looking like the cat who got the canary_.”

Simon’s stomach squirms a bit.

“ _I knew, poppet. Sometimes you just know, you know?_ ”

“I-I guess.” Simon fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt.

“ _You could bring him for Christmas, if you’d like_.” She suggests cautiously. “ _If he can mind his manners, we’d love to have him_.”

Simon looks back at Nathan, who’s now on his phone, likely texting someone. “I don’t know.”

“ _If he can come_?”

“If he’ll mind his manners.” Simon admits. Nathan looks up at that, realizing he’s talking about him, sticks his tongue out at Simon. “I doubt it.”

“ _Well, then he’ll probably get along with your taid._ ” She laughs.

“Dad doesn’t know.”

“ _I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about your father_.” She snaps. “ _In fact, I told your mam if he doesn’t apologize to you that he’s not welcome, for Christmas or any other holiday. He can spend it with his family or in a gutter for all I care._ ”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Simon assures. That’ll surely cause a stir-up in the family. “Lizzie loves visiting on Christmas.”

“ _She and your mother are perfectly welcome, though I’m not too happy with your mam_.” She explains. “ _Letting that man step all over her son like that, it’s not how I raised her. If taid ever laid a hand on any one of my babies, I’d slit his throat_.”

Simon shakes his head, smirking a bit. “I know.”

“ _Come ahead and bring him, what was his name_?”

“Nathan.” Simon admits hesitantly. “What about everyone else?”

“ _What about them? It’s my damn house, if my grandson wants to bring his boyfriend that’s none of their business._ ” She insists firmly. “ _Would Nathan like to come to Christmas? It’ll be a few days before, if he’s worried about seein’ his own parents._ ”

Simon pauses, mulling this over. Then he looks back at his boyfriend, pulling the phone from his ear. “Do you want to come to Christmas at my grandparents’?”

Nathan looks up, confused, and then wide-eyed in what must be fear and surprise. “What about your dad?”

“He can’t come unless he apologizes, probably never go again.” He admits.

“Your gran on the phone?” Nathan asks warily, Simon nods. “I dunno… I don’t do family.”

“You don’t have to.” Simon assures.

“Last time I went to a family gathering, we left early because I ripped my aunt Margaret’s wig off for callin’ me a bastard.” He admits.

Simon briefly contemplates how messed up Nathan’s life has been up to this point. He isn’t quite sure what to say, he doubts anyone will call Nathan a bastard. His aunt Mari might be a bit snotty, and his cousin Dylan might be a little prick, but he always is. His family’s not picture-perfect, but he doubts it’ll end as disastrously as Nathan is expecting.

His nain would likely tear someone’s throat out before she let them chase Simon off. Lizzie’s right, he’s always been her favorite.

“Is it just your grandparents and your mum and Lizzie?” Nathan asks cautiously.

“I have some aunts and uncles and cousins that come. Nain and Taid have five kids and they each have families.”

“Christ.” Nathan throws himself back onto the pallet.

“Are you going to see your mother?” 

“Nah, her and Jezza are going on a cruise.” He grumbles.

Simon pulls the phone back up to his ear. “Nain, are you still there?”

“ _Yes, darling. Does he have other plans?_ ”

“No.” He admits. “But it’s a lot of family.”

“ _Is he shy?_ ”

Simon laughs at that one. “Definitely not.”

“ _You wouldn’t have to stay the usual time, come see us and visit for a few hours_.” She suggests.

“Nain says we could go for a few hours and leave.” He offers to Nathan, who still looks uncertain about the entire thing.

“Do I have to dress nice?”

Simon frowns at him. “You dress nice for family Christmas?”

“At my gran’s, yeah.” Nathan nods. “Old bat had a thing about it, had to wear a tie and everything.”

“We don’t do that.”

“How long do you usually stay?” Nathan inquires cautiously.

“Three days, but we can leave after a few hours.” Simon informs him honestly.

“You like it there?” He asks.

Simon frowns again. “Yes.”

“You want me to go.”

“Nate.” Simon sighs.

“Fine, all right, I’ll go.” He turns over, putting his back to Simon. “But if anyone starts telling Jesus stories and barkin’ about sin, I’m takin’ the bus home.”

Simon makes a face at his back, mildly concerned about Nathan’s past family experiences, but says nothing. “He’ll come.”

“Oh, good!” Nain says, obviously pleased. “You can come over on the twentieth, stay as long as you like.”

“We’ll be there.” Simon assures, then they say their goodbyes and hang up.

Simon slowly lays down, turning over to cuddle up to Nathan’s back. He wraps an arm around the other, kissing the back of his neck. “Did you find out who the man was that attacked me?”

“Alisha messaged; he was locker room perv’s dad.” He murmurs. “Probably got bent out of shape that we saw her in her knickers.”

That makes sense, he supposes, in whatever reality they existed in. Sometimes it felt like everyone outside of themselves were just a second away from snapping and revealing some twisted power or murderous intent.

“Barry?” Nathan speaks after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t run off on your own again.” Then, after a beat, he adds weakly. “Please.”

“I’m sorry.” Simon says to him honestly.

“If I hadn’t had that power, if I hadn’t brought you back.” He reaches down, squeezes the wrist around his waist. “You don’t make a bloke love you and then just die, it’s fucked up.”

“I guess you’ll have to be my bodyguard too, then.” Simon sits up on his elbow.

Quiet, then Nathan turns his head to look back at him. “I’m shit at it already.”

“Practice makes perfect.” Simon shrugs a shoulder at him, and that has a small smile forming on Nathan’s lips.

“Don’t go gettin’ any ideas about creatin’ any more practice for me.” He insists, leaning up to kiss him. “And the only reason I’m goin’ to Christmas at your gran’s is because you died, so don’t think I’m bein’ any nicer than that after this.”

Simon laughs at that, kisses him again. “I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( I dunno if the Christmas chapters will be the final ones or not, I might add on little extra things but I just wanted to replace up until the series 2 finale. I skipped over Milk Boy, might rally back around and do it out of order as a sort of extra one-shot. Who knows? 
> 
> Thanks for reading! )


	6. Feels Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( And once again, we're back. Having posted six chapters in a singular month is crazy, but honestly it just sort of happened. I've seen some of you express concerns about overworking myself or whatever, but this is mostly because I'm cooped up in my house without even schoolwork to do now and it's driving me a bit crazy. 
> 
> Anyways, I dunno if the next chapter will be the last one but something tells me there will likely be two more after this. I just want to be able to cover as much as I can and introduce Simon's family and give the holiday some time. I wanted to finish by New Year, but I guess I won't be. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyways! )

“Does my forehead feel warm?” Nathan’s tipping his head over to Simon, it’s one of many excuses he’s tried to make since they left this morning.

Simon thought he’d listen to some music on the bus, but he’s only had one earbud in because Nathan keeps talking to him. He gets chatty when he’s nervous, very chatty, and fidgety.

Nathan had somehow allowed Simon to convince him to pack his bags for the full stay at his grandparents’ house. He promised that they could still leave, but Nathan had felt bad that Simon wouldn’t be able to spend the whole time there he usually did. This led to a lot of talking and going in circles, and eventually they agreed that if Simon really wanted to stay, he could, but Nathan could decide if he wanted to go or stay.

“You don’t have a fever.” Simon says.

“You can’t know that unless you check!” Nathan insists, so Simon rolls his eyes and presses the back of his hand to the other’s forehead.

“You feel fine.” Just as he suspected, of course. He’d been looking out the window for most of the bus ride, trying to ignore Nathan’s restless movements and dismiss any doubts.

“This is bullshit, why did I have to end up with the one person who actually likes their family!” Nathan complains, dramatically leaning into Simon and dropping his cheek on the younger’s shoulder. “Kelly just goes to her parents’ house, gets into fights with her dad and leaves within an hour.”

“You could leave after an hour.” Simon offers.

“But then I seem like a dickhead who doesn’t like his boyfriend’s family.” Nathan scoffs, sitting back up immediately. “Then I’m the bad guy and your whole family hates me.”

“We’ve had people leave early. Aunt Mari only stays the afternoon.”

“That’s the bitchy one, right?” Nathan asks.

“Yes.”

“I rest my case!” Nathan whaps a hand on the seat in front of him, the woman two seats ahead of them looks back at them with irritation. “Eyes to yourself, granny!” Nathan snaps.

Simon reaches over and takes Nathan’s hand, pulling it into his lap. He squeezes the other’s hand, rubbing at the back of it with his thumbs, hoping to soothe him.

“What if your gran doesn’t like me?” Nathan has had this pitch to his voice all day, something that sounds near hysterical. Simon quickly realized that he’d been nervous, more than nervous, at this point it could be classified as panicking.

“ _Nathan_ ,” Simon sighs.

“You said your granddad doesn’t like a lot of people; _nobody_ likes me!”

“I like you.” Simon reminds him.

“You’re Barry!” Nathan grabs him by his jacket sleeve and shakes him a little with his free hand. “Oh, god, should I call you Simon?”

Simon looks to him with confusion, but Nathan looks dead serious. “No.”

“But they’re gonna ask why, and then they’ll know I was bullyin’ you when we first met.” Nathan kicks his leg out, his knees bumping against the back of the seat in front of them. Thank god it’s an empty seat.

“Nate.”

“It’s not your name!”

“It is now!” Simon snaps, earning a mildly stunned look from the other. “Barry and Bazza and Baz are all my name, cause that’s what you call me. And everyone in that house could hate you, but I wouldn’t care. I love you.”

Nathan deflates a little, leaning back in his seat. There’s blessed quiet for a full thirty seconds, Simon still rubbing the back of Nathan’s hand. It’s relaxing for him, he can only hope it’s nearly as good for Nathan. But of course, he can never be that lucky.

“So you do think they’ll hate me, then.”

Simon turns in his seat to face the other. “Why would I bring you if I thought that?”

“Because,” Nathan looks ever so hurt, glancing away.

“Because?” Simon urges.

“Cause you’re looking for a reason to get rid of me.” He admits quietly. “Best way to get rid of someone.”

“Nathan,” He grabs the other’s chin, forcing him to look up. He presses a quick kiss to his mouth, just for a bit of reassurance. “Shut up.” 

~

They get off the bus, and head down the street to where Simon’s taid is meant to be picking them up. It’s snowed recently, and they’re both dressed warmly, but Simon can still feel the chill. He wants to get to his grandparents’ house where it’s warm, so he’s hurrying a bit.

Nathan’s gone mute with anxiety at this point, which Simon thinks might be worse than the talking. He holds Nathan’s hand as they walk down the street, earning only a few looks. He sees his grandfather’s car in the small parking lot he was directed to, idling in place with condensation fog curling up from the tailpipe.

He’s jerked back a little when Nathan suddenly stops, so Simon turns his head to look at him. He’s gone a bit pale, like he might be sick. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home.”

“Nate,” He steps a little closer, sets his suitcase down so that he can put both hands on the other’s arms.

“Go without me,” Nathan insists. “I’ll just catch a bus back; I’ll see you in a few days.”

“You don’t need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Nathan snaps. “I don’t want to, it’s a dumb idea.”

“Why?” Simon demands. “Give me a good reason and I’ll let you go home.”

“I don’t want to.” Nathan turns his head, clenching his jaw a bit. “Christmas is stupid, I don’t like it.”

“Your family isn’t mine.” Simon tells him, squeezing his arms gently. “Nobody’s going to yell at you or kick you out.”

Nathan’s glaring somewhere over Simon’s shoulder, but it doesn’t hide the tearful gleam in his eyes.

“Do you trust me?” When he earns no answer, he speaks again. “Nate.”

“Whatever.” Nathan tries to pull away, but Simon has him held firmly. “ _Yes_.” He grudgingly admits. 

“Look at me,” It takes Nathan a second, obviously embarrassed at his show of emotion and vulnerability, but he eventually meets Simon’s gaze. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

They stand there for a moment, Nathan looks away again and takes a few seconds to blink away his tears. “Fine.”

“Okay?” Simon asks, Nathan nods.

“Yeah, fine.” He allows Simon to take him by the hand again, Simon then picks up his suitcase once more and they walk the rest of the way to the car.

Simon walks up to the driver’s seat, where his taid is reading a newspaper. He knocks on the window and the older man startles, looking up. He smiles brightly when he realizes who’s standing outside, and quickly unlocks the door. Simon opens the back door and allows Nathan to slide in, then shuts the door and moves around to get in the passenger seat. His grandfather looks only slightly different, must have decided to grow his beard out a little longer this year. Cheeks fuzzy and white, with those familiar kind blue eyes.

“You look good, gwas.” He reaches over and squeezes the back of Simon’s neck, then turns in his seat. “This must be Nathan.”

Simon doesn’t hear a verbal response, but apparently, he got a nonverbal one, because his taid continues. “Like Simon, are you? That’s all right, we’re used to the quiet. Edward Lewis, most everyone calls me Taid, or Ed if you prefer.”

He sticks his hand into the back, Simon turns his neck just enough to see Nathan shakes his grandfather’s hand timidly. He can’t believe how quiet Nathan is, it’s a testimony to how scared he must really be. Simon’s starting to rethink this whole thing, he never meant to terrify his boyfriend. He’d head home with him in an hour or so, maybe that’d make him feel less nervous.

His grandfather is a pretty big guy, with a deep voice. Maybe he’d be a little better at the house, his nain always had a way of soothing Simon, maybe she could help Nathan too.

“How’s community service?” Taid asks. “Heard you two met there, a couple of rulebreakers.” He laughs.

“It’s good, we’re almost finished.” Simon tells him.

“Good, that’s good, any plans after?”

“Get jobs, a flat.” Simon shrugs.

“No more school then?”

Simon honestly hadn’t had time to think about getting further education, not since his life had been turned upside down when he got arrested. “I’m not sure.”

“What about you, Nathan? Thought about university?”

“No, sir.” Simon’s starting to think Nathan’s seconds from having a stroke.

“ _Sir_ , he’s a hell of a lot more respectful than your cousins’ little boyfriends, isn’t he? Always mate this and dude that.” Taid laughs, elbowing Simon gently. “Your mam teach you that, son?”

“I guess.”

“Who’s at the house?” Simon asks, to pull the attention off Nathan and let him breathe a bit.

“You’re the first ones, as far as I know.”

“Aunt Mari and Uncle Marc aren’t there?” They usually arrive first so they can leave first.

“Well,” Taid clears his throat. “Mari and your nain had a bit of a tiff, she heard about you bringin’ a boy home.”

“They aren’t coming?”

“Honestly, if they aren’t, you did us a favor. If I’d known that would scare her off, I’d have brought a man home myself.” He chuckles, Simon smiles. He’s glad his grandfather took this whole thing so well, he didn’t think his grandmother would mind but he wasn’t so sure about Taid.

Mari had married into the family by Marc, but she’d been a bit of a menace on the family for years. Nain never said anything, but Taid commonly voiced his dislike to some of the other family members. He couldn’t blame the man; she was absolutely obnoxious in Simon’s opinion. She made some holidays hell for Simon; she once made a joke about him being a mute when he was about ten in an attempt to get him to talk. He hadn’t talked the rest of the visit aside from speaking with Lizzie and Nain.

Quiet, and then. “So, Nathan, you seein’ your family for Christmas?”

“No, sir.” Nathan replies. “My mum went on a cruise with her…”

“Her boyfriend, Jeremy.” Simon finishes for him, because it still kills Nathan to say it for some reason or another.

“That’s a shame, and your father?”

“A bastard.” Nathan says automatically, Simon exhales in relief at the small sign of Nathan’s normal behavior returning.

Taid bursts into a bout of deep booming laughter. “Guess you boys have that in common, then.”

Simon nods his head in agreement, smirking out the windshield. Shitty boyfriends with shitty dads. He looks in the rearview mirror, catches sight of Nathan in the backseat. He looks a little less tense, thankfully. Even better, the rest of the few minutes of the drive are void of talking as Taid turned on the radio.

When they get to the house, Simon can’t help but peer into the backseat. Nathan’s staring up at the house with awe, as Simon expected. It’s a pretty big house, pretty old, used to belong to Nain’s parents. They left it to her in their will, and Nain and Taid had raised their kids there. Simon spent a lot of time there in his youth, he even lived there for two years when he was especially young when things got rough for their family.

“Home sweet home.” Taid says, hopping out of the car.

When Simon gets out, Nathan is immediately at his side. Simon takes his hand, hoping that it might ease his anxiety. He then glances up at Nathan, who makes a face at him, something akin to mocking irritation. Simon knocks him in the knee with his suitcase, earning a glare and a pinch to his hip for his effort. He has to hold himself back from allowing it to escalate, because he doesn’t want to have a slap fight or wrestle with his boyfriend in front of his family.

There’s a small car in the driveway, though he doesn’t recognize it. Honestly, it could be just about anyone’s. He only sees his mum’s family once a year on Christmas, he hasn’t seen his dad’s side of the family since he was probably fifteen. His parents were about as socially inept as Simon is.

“That’ll be Calvin,” Taid says with a wag of his finger to the car that had caught Simon’s attention.

Nathan looks to Simon, lost.

“My cousin, he’s your age.” He explains, leading Nathan to the front door.

The door swings open before they’ve even reached the front steps, and Simon barely has time to prepare himself before his nain is rushing to meet him at the edge of the porch. She wraps him in a tight hug, strong despite her small stature.

Immediately, she starts to rattle on in Welsh. Handsome, darling, wonderful, you stopped straightening your hair, you get bigger every time I see you. That last one’s a lie, Simon hasn’t grown a centimeter since he was sixteen, he measured himself monthly since puberty all the way up until his arrest. He’s given up on it honestly. Simon lets go of Nathan’s hand to hug her back, grinning at her excited chatter.

“Oh, this must be Nathan!” She chirps when she pulls back, eyes sparkling with delight. “So nice to meet you, sweetheart. My name’s Donna, but you can just call me Nain or Nan.”

“Pleasure, miss.” Nathan greets politely.

“How sweet,” She coos, reaching up and briefly touching Nathan’s cheek, making the young man duck his head bashfully. “He must really love you, bachgen. On his best behavior for the family.”

“You’re lettin’ the heat out, fy annwyl. Come on boys.” Taid tells them, ushering them all inside.

When they enter the house, Simon is sucked back to childhood memories. The smell of something sweet in the air, the special scent of the house itself, and the sight of all the knickknacks lining the hall walls. It’s like being a boy again, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed it. Familiarity was like scratching an itch after so much change in the past year.

“You’re staying the night, then?” Nain has stopped in the hallway.

“Maybe, we don’t really know for sure.” Simon shrugs and doesn’t look at Nathan to avoid everyone staring at his boyfriend, putting further pressure on him.

“Well, I made up your old room so you can show Nathan where it is and put your things up.” She tells him, then reaches out to squeeze his arms. “Cal, Sam, and I were just about to make some cocoa, so be quick!”

Simon takes Nathan further down the hall, Nain disappearing through the living room in the direction of the kitchen. They climb the stairs, and Simon walks into the first bedroom on the left. He turns the polished brass knob and pushes the heavy dark wood door open.

Inside is a simple queen-sized bed pressed into the corner of the room, a bedside table, a dresser, and a small bookcase. The walls are painted a faint green color, Taid had painted it for him when they first moved in when he was four. He got to help for a bit, though he likely hadn’t done more than make a mess at the time. Taid just wanted him to feel more at home.

The window housed in the alcove on the far side of the room is frosted at the edges on the outside, Simon’s drawn to it. He sets his suitcase on the bed and slowly sinks down, he used to sit at the window reading for hours as a child. Sometimes his cousins would come over and he’d watch them playing in the backyard. Though the tree halfway out into the yard has lost its leaves, he can still picture all of its spring glory, vibrant and beautiful.

He glances back when he hears Nathan fussing with his own suitcase. “Are you all right?”

“Guess so,” Nathan shrugs, touching his clothes in the suitcase but not really doing anything with them. “Seem nice.”

“Nain and Taid?” Nathan nods without looking up. “You’ll like Calvin.”

“Whose kid is he?”

“Aunt Josie.” Simon returns to looking out the window. “He likes to go out before dinner and smoke a joint, says it makes family bearable.”

“Oh, thank god, I brought three.” Nathan laughs. “Glad to know you have at least one sane relative.”

Simon smiles, curling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. Nathan comes around the bed to the alcove, sitting across from Simon. He leans forward, resting his cheek on Simon’s knee and gazing out the window. Simon reaches out and curls a gentle hand in the other’s hair.

“Thank you for coming.” He murmurs. “I know you didn’t want to.”

“It’s a nice place,” Nathan says, not really responding to Simon. “Feels like a home, y’know?”

He hates how forlorn Nathan sounds, how he uses the word ‘home’ as if he’s never quite had something like that before. Seems like he hasn’t, because four walls don’t always mean having a home. There’s a lot more to it than that, and it involves people and comfort, and all the complex things Simon has never understood but has experienced enough to know what it feels like.

“We’ll make one,” Simon says, having not really thought before he spoke.

Nathan sits up at that, frowning lightly. “What?”

“Me a-and you,” Simon says hesitantly. “We’ll make a home, a real one, for us.”

Nathan’s eyebrows scrunch together, face forming that rather adorable, puzzled expression. He looks out the window again, but Simon can’t take his eyes off the side of Nathan’s face. He seems to be thinking, pondering something. Then, after a comfortable pause, he looks back to Simon.

“How’d you do that, reckon?”

Simon leans his head back against the wall, looking down briefly. “I think the hard part is finding someone to make it with.” When he glances back up, he smiles. “Finding someone worth making it with.”

Nathan smiles, a soft look in his eyes that quickly turns impish along with his grin. “That’s such a cliché line, you been writin’ romance novels?”

Simon exhales in amusement. “Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Thanks so much for reading, I really appreciate all the feedback and support. This has been a rough year for everyone, admittedly, but on a personal level shit's been really crazy. I went through two hurricanes and was without power for over a month, had some damage to the house (now repaired), it's been a mess. I'm glad I've had this and some reader interaction as comfort, I really appreciate it. )


	7. Meet the Lewis Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Happy New Year! Hope you like the update! )

The two have just left the room to head downstairs when Simon hears the front door opening and people chattering. Nathan automatically freezes at the top of the steps, scurrying back a bit and grabbing hold of Simon to stop him from continuing. They stand at the top of the stairs as Simon tries to sort out who exactly has arrived from the muddle of voices.

There are definitely children, and after hearing the main adult voice, he’s figured it out. He looks back at Nathan, smirking. “Aunt Gwen.”

“She’s…?”

“Second oldest, divorced, three kids.” Simon elaborates. “They’ll probably stay the night, Gwen likes to get tipsy with Taid, which means…”

Small footsteps come scrambling to the stairs, and Simon lays eyes on the ever-growing figures of his younger cousins at the base of the steps. Simon moves a bit so he’s not blocking the top of the hallway, and they slow in their ascent at the sight of him. The oldest, Lilly, is fifteen. As proper and ladylike as ever, stops in front of him as her brothers Ryan and Spencer race past to put their things away without even glancing twice at them.

Simon briefly hears the sound of Ryan shoving Spencer out of the way, causing a scuffle inside a nearby room. Spencer’s only eight, he tends to cling to his older siblings’ coattails, much to their annoyance.

“Happy Christmas, Simon.” She smiles, the bands on her braces are blue and pink this time.

“Happy Christmas, Lilly.” He nods politely, and then realizes she’s waiting to be introduced to the stranger standing somewhat behind him. “Uh, Lilly this is m-my boyfriend, Nathan. Nathan, my cousin Lilly.”

“Hello, Nathan.” She holds her hand out, and he can see the same sparkle in her eyes that he’d seen in his sister’s. He can’t help but feel rather proud, like he had come with a trophy in hand.

“Hey,” Nathan shakes her hand awkwardly.

Spencer comes racing out from the room, runs right into Nathan, and then hits the hall carpet with a thud. Simon hears Nathan choke back a laugh, so he delivers him a not-so-gentle elbow to his side. Nathan responds by smacking him in the back of the head right as Lilly glances down at her brother. Simon looks back at him, but Nathan only smiles sweetly at him.

Twat.

“Who’re you?” Spencer has quickly gotten up from the floor, looks perfectly fine. Simon can spot that he still has that perpetual cowlick in the back, a lock of dark hair sticking out where the others have been tamed.

“Simon’s boyfriend, his name’s Nathan.” Lilly informs him, and apparently Ryan as the older boy approaches at a much tamer rate. Ryan’s thirteen, he’d become snotty in the last few years. But Simon can’t quite blame him, being that age sucked.

“Simon’s a poof?” Ryan asks with a small grin, then looks up at the older young men and his expression falters. “No offense.”

Lilly promptly grabs her brother by the ear and yanks, he swats her hand away and then shoves her. Lilly holds up a fist, obviously ready to throw all her manners out the window to throw down. “Be nice.”

“I’m not scared of you.” Ryan sneers, leaning in his sister’s face.

Lilly’s face screws up, her fist still held at the ready. “You should be, I’ll send you down the stairs on your head.”

“Kids!” Footsteps up the stairs, and then Gwen is reaching the top. She looks rather nice, though slightly frazzled. Her perfectly cut blonde hair is at her neck, but her eyes look a bit feral as she focuses on her kids. “Remember, every incident I find out about, you’ll lose a present.” She reminds them tightly.

Lilly, who had lowered her fist the second she heard her mum coming upstairs, speaks first. “Mum, this is Simon’s boyfriend.”

Gwen turns her head to look at both Simon and Nathan, a pleasant smile finding her face. “Isn’t that sweet? Good to meet you, I’m Gwen.”

Another handshake. “Nathan.”

“Simon, how are you, love?” She steps a bit closer to give Simon a hug, who reciprocates with his own gentle embrace.

“Good.”

“That’s good.” She steps back and pats his shoulder, then moves past them and through the crowd of her children. “Behave yourselves, Santa’s watching.”

They all watch her disappear into a nearby room, and once she’s safely out of earshot, Ryan huffs. “She told us Santa wasn’t real when we were eight, how’s that work?”

Lilly shakes her head. “She’s been working too much.”

“Mum, what’s a poof?” Spencer calls after his mum, starting to trail after her.

Simon immediately takes Nathan by the hand and turns to the stairs, hurrying down them so he doesn’t have to be around for that discussion. Nathan’s got the beginnings of a grin on his face when they stop in the hallway, out of immediate view or earshot of anyone that Simon can tell.

“All your cousins brats like that?” He looks back towards the stairs.

Simon tilts his head, conceding. “Most of them.”

“Maybe it’ll be fun, then.” Nathan allows.

They make their way into the kitchen, where Nain is sitting at the table with Calvin and Sam. Calvin is of course Josie’s son, older than Simon. But Josie and Gary had been on the rocks for quite a few years now, especially since the accidental pregnancy that led to now seven-year-old Sam. Sam, who seems to have cut her blonde hair quite short, while it seems that Calvin had gone the opposite way and grown his hair out.

“Simon!” Sam smiles at the sight of him, Simon waves to her as he enters the kitchen.

Calvin holds out a sideways hand, one that Simon’s never quite gotten the hang of. Is it meant to be a handshake or a high-five? He can never tell. It always ends in an awkward interaction, but he tries anyways. Calvin’s always been nice to him, unlike Dylan, who’s shit on him since they were little. He thinks if it weren’t for Dylan, Calvin wouldn’t give two shits about Simon. But he sort of likes to maintain an opposition to Dylan, so taking up for Simon seemed like the best way to do it.

He smacks his hand against Calvin’s, allowing him to briefly grip it before releasing. Not as bad as some, but maybe Calvin should invest in a fist-bump someday, Simon can figure that one out.

“Would you boys like some cocoa?” Nain asks, already rising from her chair.

“Yes, please.” He looks back to Nathan, who nods his head when Nain looks to him. “Uh, this is Nathan.” He introduces as the older woman walks over to the stove.

“How’s it goin’?” Calvin nods with a wave, Nathan nods back.

“All right, you?”

“Fine.” Calvin shrugs.

Simon sits down and pulls out a seat next to him at the table for Nathan to sit down next to him. He looks to Sam, who’s obviously maintaining her reputation of being rather shy. “I like your hair.” He tells her.

“Thank you.” Sam blushes, hiding in her cocoa.

“Looks killer.” Nathan allows, which only serves to make the girl blush more.

“She did it herself,” Calvin admits, then corrects himself. “Well, she cut it all off herself. Mum and dad went into hysterics, I had to take her to get it fixed. It was pretty cool, coolest thing she’s ever done in my opinion.”

“Maybe next time we should ask to get it cut professionally first.” Nain reminds from the stove where she’s fixing their cocoa. “It turned out good this time, but we don’t want bald children, now do we?”

“No, ma’am.” Sam mumbles.

Soon, they’re joined by Lilly, Ryan, and Spencer. It’s decided that they should all head into the living room as it’s getting rather crowded. Taid’s got on an old Christmas movie, though he’s got his reading glasses on and some rather large book in his lap. Sam ends up in Taid’s lap, content to be away from the squabbling older kids on the floor. Spencer’s busy scooting his way over to the tree, like nobody can see him slowly getting closer to the presents.

Simon’s sat himself next to Calvin, having made just enough room for Nathan between himself and the arm of the couch. Nathan doesn’t seem nearly as nervous as before, just a bit quiet, likely uncomfortable more than anything else. Simon knows the feeling; he does this every year and it still feels awkward with most of his family members.

“Simon, Lilly fancies your boyfriend!” Ryan calls out, and Lilly gives him what Simon deems an appropriate smack to the head.

“None of that!” Taid snaps, and Simon turns his head when Nathan jerks a little at the stern tone and spills some cocoa down his chin. “Can’t even have five seconds of peace before you creatures are tearin’ at one another.”

The kids have gone grudgingly quiet, and Taid’s complaints have turned into quite grumbling under his breath in Welsh. It’s nothing out of the norm, Simon supposes, he never really got yelled at by either of his grandparents. But he’d been used to Taid losing his temper with the other kids, even when they were younger. Simon’s only problem as a kid were his meltdowns, a few incidents of getting stressed or overwhelmed and refusing to budge on some quirks.

Nain always stuck up for him, and Taid never pushed. He supposes they always knew that he wasn’t quite like the other kids, and he’s grateful that they allowed him enough leeway to be himself. But getting into a slap fight with siblings is different from crying over having gotten snow in your pants after falling outside. Simon lost his patience with Lizzie when they were little, but he never hurt her. These kids, not unlike his Uncle Mark and Aunt Mari’s kids had been when he was little, are ruthless.

“Your mum coming?” Simon asks Calvin, who shakes his head.

“Nah, she and dad are havin’ a row. Mum won’t come by herself, thinks everyone will talk about her… Like they aren’t already. And she doesn’t want them fightin’ in front of everyone.” He shakes his head. “Sam spent the night at my flat last night, so I just brought her with me.”

Simon nods, not knowing what to really say to that.

Calvin leans over a little, keeping his voice down. “Nain told me all about what’s been goin’ on at home. Your dad bein’ a piece of shit and all that.”

“I-It’s fine.” Simon’s not sure what else to say.

“Aunt Therese and Lizzie comin’?”

Simon shrugs, unsure. “I-I dunno.”

“Mari’s not here, hopefully she’ll stay home.” Calvin murmurs into his ear. “Feel free to bring him next year if it’ll keep her out.”

Simon smirks at that, glancing over at his boyfriend as the other shifts in his seat and starts to bounce his knee. Nathan’s never still, not for very long. He can be quiet to an extent, but he’s always twitching and fidgeting. It’s not always a nervous thing, he just does it sometimes, just because.

Simon understands that, sometimes when he’s alone on his laptop and focused, he rocks back and forth. It’s a comfort thing, though he’d caught on at a young age that it wasn’t ‘normal’ to do that in front of others. He doesn’t stim in front of others, not in obvious ways, he doesn’t like being asked questions or stared at. It’s gotten to be a norm for him, to imitate how others act in front of people. He doesn’t think he’d be able to do anything different now.

Gwen comes downstairs, and from the look she gives her kids, she heard Taid yelling. Instead of saying anything, she goes and sits down with Nain on the other couch.

The quiet doesn’t last, and then Nain is talking, and everyone starts to catch up. Simon is drawn into the conversation a few times, and Nathan by association. Things are going good, Simon’s rather pleased with how it’s panned out. They talk to the kids about school, he’s thankful a lot of the talk is focused on them. But then they wring that topic dry, and it bounces around for a bit.

“So, are you and Simon living together, then?” Gwen asks.

Simon, he sort of freezes, unsure as to what he’s meant to say. “Uh, yes.”

“I thought you said you were going to get jobs and then look for a flat.” Nain says with a small frown.

Nathan leans into the conversation, and his talent for coming up with stories without a sweat immediately comes to front. “We’re crashing with mates right now, actually.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Gwen nods, and Simon feels like he can breathe again.

Nathan’s hand finds his, and they both squeeze as they grip them together. Simon shoots Nathan a grateful nod, and Nathan just leans back against the couch. 

“You moved out your house?” Lilly questions.

“Is it cause you’re a poof?” Ryan asks.

“Now, you know better than that!” Nain tells him firmly.

Gwen cuts the boy a look. “Ryan, upstairs.”

“I was just askin’!” Ryan complains.

“Apologize to Simon and Nathan, then go upstairs until I come up there.” She insists.

Ryan scowls, slowly getting to his feet. Spencer giggles and Ryan glares down at him, then at the noise of his mother clearing her throat pointedly, looks up to Simon and Nathan. “Sorry.”

He turns, subtly kicks Spencer in the leg as he skulks off out of the room.

“I’m sorry about that,” Gwen sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure you’ve gotten enough of that from everywhere else.”

“What’s a little light homophobia?” Nathan says with a small smile. “Isn’t Christmas without it, right Barry?”

“Barry?” Calvin smirks.

Simon can feel a flush building on his cheeks. Nathan had been so worried about using the name and Simon’s now paying the price for defending it. “It’s a nickname.”

“It’s a completely different name.” Taid laughs, though still seeming a bit puzzled.

“He pretended he forgot my name after we met.” Simon admits, and now it’s Nathan’s turn to look mildly embarrassed.

“Ah, pulling pigtails, as we used to say.” Nain looks rather amused then.

“I was just messin’ about.” Nathan says quickly, then seems to gather himself. “Then he saved my life.”

“Did ya now?” Taid seems interested, an edge of a smile on his face.

“Did you really, Simon?” Lilly asks, and the tips of Simon’s ears are burning.

“Oh, yeah, real hero.” Nathan wraps an arm around Simon’s shoulders, pulling him a bit closer without gentleness. “I was muckin’ about on the roof of the community centre. Nearly sailed over the edge, grabbed my hand just in time and pulled me back. This close to fallin’ three stories onto a rod-iron fence.” Nathan shows them a small gap between his index and thumb for measure.

“Wow.” Gwen admires.

“How romantic.” Lilly swoons, leaning her arms onto the coffee table.

“Dead romantic.” Nathan grins, and Simon shakes his head at the imitation of Kelly. “I call him my bodyguard. Real protective, this one.”

“Isn’t that lovely?” Nain coos.

Of course, all the details Nathan’s left out weren’t so romantic. Brainwashing cults, dead probation workers, enough childhood trauma to scar a few therapists. Fist fights, stabbing people, strangling others. All in the name of their fucked-up version of love. But Simon won’t tell any of that, it’d be far too complicated, not to mention incriminating. So he just smiles and nods, and they let the topic slide into something else.

Those are secrets they’ll keep to themselves.

~

Uncle Rhys comes in just as the sun is coming down, with his girlfriend Claire and his daughters. Rhys is the youngest, and he’d been married once before but his wife died a few years back. That had left him with two young daughters, Ella and Madison, who were now three and five.

He had always known Rhys as the fun uncle, though he’d never quite known how to have fun with Simon. He wrestled with the kids and did funny voices for everyone, always the center of attention for the children. Simon never disliked him, but he didn’t really like to wrestle, nor did he always understand his humor. His jokes fell flat, and Simon guessed he just sort of gave up. He never resented him for that, but he thinks he resented the other kids for reciprocating properly and getting more attention from him.

The second he’s in the door, he’s got Sam and Spencer clinging to his legs. Ryan comes down with his mum and nearly tackles the man to the floor. It ends in a dogpile, which Simon and Nathan watch from the couch. He explains all these details and more to Nathan, who seems to be a lot more interested than nervous like he had been earlier.

“Look at these strapping young men.” Rhys comments as he comes into the room, Spencer thrown over his shoulder giggling wildly. “Couldn’t be my little nephews.”

“We only look young because you’re getting ancient. What are you now, sixty?” Calvin comments.

“Just for that, you’re on the opposing team for snowball fights tomorrow.” Rhys points a finger at the young man, then turns it to Simon. “Simon, you and me… And uh, who’s this?”

“Simon’s gay and he’s got a boyfriend!” Spencer chirps over Rhys’s shoulder.

“Bisexual.” Simon corrects automatically. “His name is Nathan.” Rhys nods his head like he’s not quite clear what’s happening but he’s going to roll with it anyways. He can’t expect anything else from a thirty-something year old straight man who’s likely never personally known a gay person in his life.

“Right, well. Nathan you can join us, or you can be on the losing team if you want. Dunno why you’d choose that, though.” Rhys offers, then turns in a circle, making Spencer laugh excitedly. “Who’s this gremlin belong to? I’m done with it and if nobody claims it, it’s going in the bin outside!”

“No!” Spencer laughs as they walk out of the living room and towards the kitchen.

“I’m going to go say hi to the girls.” Calvin says, getting up. He glances back at Simon and Nathan. “I’m goin’ outside in a bit, if you want to uh…” He makes like he’s pressing a joint to his lips.

“Brought mine as well.” Nathan replies, and there’s a glint in Calvin’s eyes as his lip curls into a grin.

“All right, I’ll tell you when I’m goin’.” He turns and walks out.

Finally, Simon and Nathan are alone. Everyone is talking loudly from the kitchen, but it’s slightly muted in the living room. He turns to Nathan, who is staring at the TV with a faint smile on his face. “All right?”

Nathan looks over at him, nodding his head. “Yeah, great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Thanks for reading, leave a kudos or a comment if you liked! )


	8. Shotguns and Snowballs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( You thought I forgot, didn't you? Nope, I'm still here. I dunno if the posting will be quite what it was last December, especially with school, but I'm sure to finish this fic sooner or later. I hope you enjoy this chapter! )

When they retire for the evening, Simon is drained, more mentally than physically. He can tell that Nathan is too, to an extent. He’d taken a shine to Rhys’s daughters after supper and played with them until they had to go to bed. He seemed more comfortable with them than any of the other kids, except maybe Sam, but that was a hesitant companionship at best.

He’d sat on the floor and played with them and Rhys seemed thankful for the reprieve. Madison, or Maddie, had talked his ear off while he played blocks with Ella. Weirdly enough, he’d never seen Nathan so patient. It had made Simon feel all sorts of feelings that he couldn’t even begin to start sorting through.

But Gwen had whispered to Simon that Nathan would make a good daddy and that just, well, it made Simon nervous. Did Nathan want kids? Hell, did Simon want kids? He’d never really though about it before, but it seemed like a big commitment. The whole concept had bothered him the rest of the evening, so he was glad when it came time to head off to bed for the night.

“What’s eating you?” Nathan’s voice disturbs him while he’s absentmindedly tugging on his pajamas, staring out the window into the back.

“Nothing.” He murmurs, climbing into bed.

“Don’t bullshit me, Barry.” Nathan sighs, collapsing down onto the mattress next to him in a heap. “You’ve got that constipated look on your face, see, your eyebrows are having sex.” He reaches out and taps the space between Simon’s eyebrows.

“What?” Simon tries to be mad, but the phrasing has a small smirk appearing on his face.

Nathan just grins at him, sliding under the covers. “You get all twitchy and freaked out about something, your face gets all scrunched up and your eyebrows start bumpin’ uglies. You’ll give yourself premature wrinkles, that’s what Alisha says, and she’s all about skincare, y’know.”

And somehow, despite the inane bullshit that spills forth from Nathan’s lips, Simon still loves him. Maybe not even despite it anymore, but because of it. Who else can make him smile, make him laugh, make him feel better with such ease?

“Go on, then. What’s got your brain pourin’ onto the pavement?”

Simon thinks about what to say, how to word it. In the end, he decides to go bluntly. “Do you want kids?”

Now it’s Nathan’s turn to look mildly stressed. “Christ, we’ve only been dating a few weeks. You’re already tryin’ to knock me up?”

“Nathan.” Simon pleads weakly.

Nathan sighs, sitting up on his elbow as he turns to face Simon in bed. “Doubt the government would loan us one, honestly.”

Maybe he’s right, a shoplifter and an arsonist. “Probably not.” He allows quietly.

“Look, real talk?” Nathan says, Simon nods his head agreeably. “Five, ten years, I’ll steal one for you if you still want one. Good?”

Simon laughs quietly, surprised. “Steal one?”

“Yeah, just tell me what you want. Baby, toddler, eye color and sex, you name it.” He reaches out and pokes Simon in the chest.

“Do you think we’ll be together then?” Simon murmurs, after a moment of quiet thought.

“That’s the second ending, first one’s where you lose your patience and chop me up into little pieces.” Nathan scoots closer, dropping his head onto Simon’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Simon says softly. From this angle, he can see partially out the window into the black night, snow flurries coming down.

“I’d probably make a shit dad.” Nathan offers. “You’d have to stay home and raise it.”

“You’d be the fun parent.” Simon tells him.

“This part of that “makin’ a home” shit you were talkin’ about earlier?” Nathan inquires curiously.

“Possibly.” Simon allows, then rectifies. “If you wanted.”

“Rain check, five years.” Nathan says, leaning up and kissing Simon’s cheek. “Not like we can afford it right now anyway.”

“So if I wanted a kid right now-”

Nathan sighs. “I could probably snatch Ella; I’m sure Rich will have another three or four by the end of it.”

“Rhys.” Simon laughs. “You’d really get me a child just because I wanted one?”

“Bazza, I’d eat coal and shit diamonds if you asked.” He cuddles closer. “Brains off, I want cuddles and Donna said she’s makin’ pancakes early and you won’t deprive me of that woman’s art.”

Simon doesn’t argue, though his face does feel a bit warm as he turns onto his side and pulls the other fully into his arms.

~

By the next morning, the snow had laid out like a thick quilt across the land. By the time Simon and Nathan had gotten downstairs, the kids were already outside playing in it. All the adults except Rhys had stayed behind to get some peace and quiet, even Calvin. Simon and Nathan had found a place at the kitchen table, drinking their coffee, and chatting with Calvin. He and Nathan get along well, which makes Simon both pleased and jealous.

It’s not as if they’re flirting, just shooting the breeze and talking on a level Simon never really understood. He’s just content to look out the window to the backyard, where Sam and Spencer seem to be making a snowman. He supposes Rhys and the others are around the side, that’s usually where a lot of the snow gathers. Less muddy, too.

He doesn’t hear the front door open, too absorbed in his thoughts to register the footsteps approaching the kitchen from the hall. Simon startles when someone’s arms wrap around him from behind, jerking his head around to catch a glimpse of the side of his sister’s face.

“Lizzie,” He reaches up and back to return the awkwardly angled hug, craning his neck to look over her hunched body towards the kitchen door.

His mother is standing in the doorway, looking guilty, and behind her looms his father.

Simon’s body tightens up automatically, his fight or flight instincts starting to kick in. He’s already mentally mapping out what it’ll take to get back upstairs and grab their things. There’s another door on the other side of the kitchen, in the hallway that leads to Taid’s old study. But there’s also a second entryway to the living room. Though, once he gets up there, there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to get back down. Maybe he could scale the roof, he could step out onto it from his bedroom.

He could just disappear, but then where would that leave Nathan? Couldn’t leave him behind, wouldn’t ever want to, even if it meant his father beating the crap out of him. Nathan’s between him and them, Simon’s got one side against the wall and the other against Nathan, it’s a bit of a tight spot. He probably wouldn’t be able to get past his dad if he ran by.

Lizzie leans back but doesn’t move from behind his chair. She keeps her hands on his shoulders, looking in the same direction as her brother.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His mother greets quietly, stepping into the room. “Calvin, Nathan.” She says the latter’s name with a little more hesitancy.

“Should I get Taid?” Calvin asks Simon cautiously. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Simon’s father moves further inside, walking along the edge of the room instead of approaching the table. “But I would like a word with my son in private, if you all don’t mind.”

“I do, actually.” Nathan says, leaning back in his chair. “So, you’re his dad, then?”

“Aye, I am.” The man nods stiffly, stopping near the counter and crossing his arms. “Martin Bellamy.”

“You here to apologize?” Nathan asks boldly. “Cause last I checked; you weren’t invited otherwise.”

“A fag with a big mouth, why am I not surprised? You always know just how to disappoint your parents, Simon.” The man replies calmly.

“Shut up.” Simon says quietly.

“What?” Martin takes a step closer.

“Goin’ deaf, Martin? He told you to shut your trap.” Nathan’s mouth stretches into a sharp grin. “I gotta agree, not really hearin’ anything worthwhile coming out of that shithole you call a mouth.”

“Little prick,” Martin lunges forward, but before he can get any closer a large hand grabs him by the back of his shirt collar and yanks him back.

“Donna, I think we might have a rat problem!” Taid calls, holding Martin firm and glowering down at him. “You have some audacity to come ‘round here messin’ with my grandson.”

“He’s my son.” Martin tugs out of his grip, adjusting his collar hotly. “This is ridiculous, I asked for a private word and instead I’m assaulted.”

“You don’t know the meanin’ of the word, boy.” Taid says, voice low with warning. “Therese, get him gone or I’m fetching the gun.”

“Tad,” Therese says pleadingly.

“Get gone before my wife comes down.” Taid moves away, going to open the fridge.

“Edward, I thought you of all people would understand!” Martin says in angry disbelief. “What if it were one of your boys?”

Taid slams down the lemonade pitcher on the counter, pointing a finger over at Simon. “I’d be damn proud to have him as a son, I’m proud to have him as a grandson.”

“Even with all he’s done? He’s disturbed.” Martin hisses.

“I’ll thank you kindly to leave now, Martin.” The cocking of a gun, silence.

Simon turns his head, finding his grandmother standing with a shotgun aimed directly at his father.

“Mam!” Therese cries out in horror.

"Christ, Nain." Calvin murmurs.

“All right, Donna!” Nathan cheers with a laugh.

“I warned you to keep your uptight arse out of my house until you can treat that boy with the love and respect he deserves.” She says calmly. “I have no problem ruining Christmas by shooting a trespasser.”

“You’re mad!” Martin says, hands held up in a helpless gesture.

“Must have gotten his disturbance from our side, then.” Taid says, pouring himself a cup of lemonade.

The back door opens, Rhys takes a step inside and lays eyes on the scene in front of him. All eyes fall upon the man, who purses his lips and narrows his eyes momentarily. “I’ll come back later.” He says simply, then steps back out and shuts the door.

“I’m not leaving without my son.” Martin says quietly, eyes on the floor.

“Simon?” Taid takes a sip of his drink.

Simon glances at Nathan, who is staring at him imploringly. His eyes slide back over to his dad, whose hands are still up. “Leave.” He says.

“Simon.” Martin sighs, turning to look at him with a small glare.

“ _Get out!_ ” Simon snaps, tightening his hands into fists in his lap.

“You heard him, Marty.” Donna gestures at him with the gun. “Take off.”

“Fine!” Martin turns to move towards the door. “Therese, Lizzie, we’re going.”

“But,” Lizzie’s hand tightens on his shoulder.

“Come on, darling.” Therese says, hitching her purse strap further up her shoulder.

“Mum!” Lizzie says pleadingly.

Therese pauses, staring at her daughter for a long moment, then looking to her son. She seems conflicted, glancing back to the hallway where Martin has turned to exit through.

“Simon, would you mind…?” Therese asks weakly, looking to her son.

“I’ll bring her home.” He murmurs.

“Therese, now!” Martin yells down the hall.

Therese casts a regretful look around the room, briefly making eye contact with her mother. “Happy Christmas.” She says quietly, before turning and hurrying down the hall.

The front door slams shut seconds later, leaving them all in quiet.

“She could have stayed.” Lizzie says, leaning against Simon’s chair.

“She chose him.” Simon turns back to his now cold coffee, looks out the window. Sam and Spencer’s snowman is muddy looking, and the stick used for the mouth makes it look unamused. “She always does.”

Nathan reaches into his lap, gingerly taking a clenched fist and unfurling it to clasp it in his own. He takes only a little bit of solace in it, squeezing it gently as his sister wraps her arm around his neck from behind. The buzz of Christmas joy is gone, replaced by only the feeling of something that can only be described as a mix of inadequacy and bitterness.

“The nerve of my daughter and that pest of a man.” Nain hands the shotgun off to her husband, who takes it easily. “How’s everyone for some brownies?”

“I’d prefer a valium. Jesus.” Calvin sighs, reaching up and pushing his hair back.

~

He didn’t really want to go outside, but Nathan had gotten him to put on his jacket and join all the kids in their late morning fun. It was Calvin’s fault, really. Rhys asked him to watch the kids, and he’d asked Nathan and Simon to join him. So now he’s here, standing in the backyard freezing his ass off and feeling no better than earlier.

Everyone’s giving him space for now, not trying to talk to him or get him to do anything but stand there. He can’t say he’s angry with his dad, per say, he expected nothing better from him. He’s more upset with his mother, who always seemed to take his side. Stood by and let him tear into Simon, never took a chance to argue against him. Maybe she agreed with him to some extent, maybe she was disappointed too and didn’t want to say it.

A gasp escapes him when something cold and wet smacks into the side of his head. The fog of his breath curling up into the air in stuttering, shocked exhales as he turns his head. Calvin has a snowball in his hand, a hesitant smirk on his face.

“Snowball fight!” Spencer crows.

“Oh shit!” Nathan lurches over to Simon and yanks him by the arm, both rushing to get cover behind the shed.

Everyone scatters to their own places, quiet giggles and whispers as they build up ammunition. Nathan’s really good at making snowballs, has three of them made by the time Simon’s finished one. He’s got this concentrated look on his face, a sparkle of mischief and excitement in his eyes. When he looks at Simon, he has that feral expression on his face.

“You ready?”

Simon thinks for a moment, glances back behind him. “I have an idea.”

“Do tell.” Nathan urges, grin growing wicked.

“Keep making snowballs.” He turns and gathers some in his arms, then darts away to the other side of the house.

When he returns for Nathan, they load up on snowballs and he leads the other young man around the house. They climb the trellis on the side of the house, hauling up snowballs onto the roof. There’s a perfect positioning for them that oversees the backyard, right near the window to their room. Simon keeps back so he’s out of sight, can see the wild gleam in Nathan’s eyes as he scurries next to Simon.

“You’re brilliant.” He hisses.

There’s still laughter and shouting going on below, but it won’t be long before someone notices they’re missing. Nathan and Simon make a few more snowballs, and then Nathan nudges Simon.

“Give it to’em, Bazza.” He mutters, handing Simon a rather large snowball.

It’s freezing cold and his fingers have gone numb despite wearing gloves, his cheeks hurt from the air, but he’s smiling as he stands upright. The kids are running around, and Rhys has come back outside to join the fight. Calvin, Lilly, and Ryan seem to have teamed up, as have Rhys and Lilly. The mainstream firepower comes from those five, though the younger kids are scrambling around in the mix screaming and throwing their own.

“Simon!” Sam shouts, pointing up onto the roof.

Everyone’s eyes slowly move to the roof, Simon’s lips stretch into a grin. “Ambush!” He shouts and launches his first snowball.

Nathan quickly joins in and then everyone is trying to nail Simon and Nathan from below, mostly failing. Simon hasn’t had this much fun in ages, it feels like. He’s so cold it hurts but, in the moment, throwing snowballs and trying to dodge them, it doesn’t register as intensely. Rhys somehow manages to hit Nathan square in the face and a bark of laughter escapes Simon at the stunned look his boyfriend has on.

He’s so distracted, he shifts his footing and his feet slide apart. His left foot hits the gutter, it lets out a metallic groan and breaks on impact. Simon tips sideways and falls away from the roof, briefly catching sight of the panicked look on Nathan’s face before the ground comes racing up to meet him.

“Simon!” Lizzie screams.

In all honesty, it’s not even ten feet from the ground. But looking up at the sky with the air knocked out of him, it feels more like thirty. The snow lightened the impact, he thinks with an accompanying pained groan as he slowly sits up to find everyone scurrying to surround him. Lizzie kneels next to him, Rhys crouching down at his feet.

A few voices talk at the same time, everyone speaking their concern and asking him if he’s hurt. He thinks that sets him more on edge than the fall itself. Sitting in the wet snow and mud with the cold seeping into his bones while everyone talks at once. It sets his teeth on edge, feeling like the personification of a wet sock.

Rhys puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move too much, mate. You all right?”

Simon doesn’t have time to answer before Nathan’s shoving Ryan aside and coming to a stop in the snow. “For Christ’s sake, Barry, aren’t you s’posed to lay still after a fall like that?” He snaps.

“I’m okay.” Simon says weakly, still a little winded.

“Well, let’s call it quits while everyone’s still relatively unharmed then.” Rhys says, though he still looks concerned.

Rhys starts to usher the kids inside as Nathan helps Simon to his feet all while trying to covertly check him for injuries. Simon’s back hurts a bit, and he knows likely he’ll be sore tomorrow or later this evening, but ultimately, he’s fine. It was just a little scary, falling like that. When he looks at Nathan, he knows he probably felt just as scared, if not more.

Not to mention, he knew how it felt, to have that moment of unbalance. Like that day at the community centre, on the roof.

Regardless, the way he’s got his hands all over Simon is just worsening his mood. Patting him down like the security at an airport terminal. Part of him wants to snap, but he knows Nathan is just worried. He fusses when he’s worried, Simon tends to do the same. But when he’s wet and cold and his head hurts it’s just not as welcome.

“You’ve got mud and snow on you.” Nathan mutters, wiping off the back of his jacket.

“I’m okay.”

“Did you hit your head?” His hat is pulled off, exposing his ears to the cold. His shoulders bunch up automatically, he pushes Nathan’s hand away when his cold fingers slide through his hair and touch his scalp.

“You’re freezing!” He complains.

“C’mere.” Nathan tugs Simon’s hat back over his head, forcing it down over his eyes purposefully before pulling him into a hug. “Givin’ me another heart attack all over again.”

“Sorry,” He mumbles, can’t even enjoy Nathan’s hug because the outside of his jacket is so damn cold. He feels like his skin is too tight, and the ache in his back and the slowly rising throb of his head aren’t helping. “Can we go in?”

Nathan pulls back, and he’s got that frustrated scrunch to his eyebrows. Simon remembers the eyebrows having sex comment but decides that he doesn’t have the comedic timing for a joke like that right now.

“Fine, yeah.”

When they step inside, Simon’s just barely getting one of his boots off when Nain comes hurrying into the kitchen. “Have you lost all common sense?” She demands with more concern than anger. “Climbing up onto the roof, you foolish boy.”

“I’m okay.” He’s at a loss for what else to say, can’t think of anything but his wet trousers soaking through to his pants.

She steps closer, takes his cold face into her warm hands. He pulls away from the touch, it’s a little too much for him for the moment. She doesn’t try to touch him again, thankfully, she’s grown accustomed to his non-verbal cues. Boundary set, he doesn’t want to be touched right now because it feels like there are too many things going on already. He focuses instead on getting his jacket off, his lower back and shoulders aching slightly as he removes it.

“Are you sure? You didn’t hurt yourself?”

“I will completely understand if you ground him to our bedroom for the rest of the evening.” Nathan says, prying off his own boots and setting them aside.

“Now, look, in the doghouse with your new boyfriend because you decided to do something stupid.” Nain tells him, despite him not really listening.

Simon wants to change and sit in his room for a while, as much fun as playing in the snow had been, he’s starting to feel a little overwhelmed. The sound from the living room seems louder now, but he thinks it’s just him getting overstimulated. He’s had a hard morning, the emotional drain of his father and being outside in the cold and falling off the roof. It’s just a bad day altogether, in his opinion.

“Go on upstairs, my love.” Nain tells him, more gently this time.

He doesn’t hesitate at the dismissal, walking down the hall without a glance back to his boyfriend. He’s trying to make a beeline, but he stops when his aunt calls out to him. “Simon!”

He freezes in the entryway to the living room, where it seemed like pretty much everyone had crammed into. The TV’s muted but he can hear the electricity there, buzzing loudly like an undertone to all the idle chitchat and movement in the room. He reaches up and smooths a hand over his hair, grimacing when he realizes that’s a bit damp too. Not the same texture as when he straightens it either, he lowers his arms awkwardly to his sides.

“Are you all right, darling? Rhys said you had a fall.” Gwen asks.

He nods his head, focusing on that patch in the carpet where Lilly once had dropped her chewed up gum into it and it had to be cut out. She had cried for nearly an hour, couldn’t have been older than eight at the time. Simon had walked out immediately, but he sympathized with her in his own way. He didn’t really do crying, despite spilling so many tears of his own over the years. Comfort wasn’t really his strong suit, especially with people he didn’t have a strong connection with.

“You didn’t hurt your back?” Claire asks. “I can take a look at it.”

Claire, despite being relatively new to the family, seemed rather comfortable with herself and her placement here. A nurse, and apparently an attentive one.

Simon shakes his head, fidgeting awkwardly.

The TV sounds like it’s humming, everyone’s sort of stopped talking, which would be good if they all weren’t staring at him. He’s a bit, well, frozen in place. He jerks when a hand touches his back, turning his head to find Nathan having come down the hall from the kitchen after him.

“What is this, a starin’ contest?” Nathan scoffs, taking hold of Simon’s shirt sleeve. “Upstairs, if Nain won’t send ya to your room I sure will.”

Simon gets his legs to unstick then, feeling relieved that his boyfriend had come to his rescue. He practically sprints up the steps ahead of Nathan, leaving him in his dust.


End file.
